


Breed a Better Mousetrap

by Uniasus



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Gen, Horses, Mystery, Undercover Mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-14 04:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 41,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1252477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uniasus/pseuds/Uniasus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward Elric has had his fair share of undercover missions, thankfully this one does not involve a dress. He just gets a pyro for an uncle instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally started back in May 2009 on ff.net and left unfinished, but I'm back on working on this fic thanks to me sisters prodding. So the first half is old, but the second half will be new. Timeline is....eh, before the main events of the manga/anime and doesn't really take place in either universe.

Edward had had his fair share of undercover missions. When he was younger it was one the few types the Colonel, then Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, had allowed him to do for a year. And despite the success of his first mission, an inspection of the Youswell coal mines, Mustang had him stay in East City for most of his first year of service helping the local police. He went undercover a lot; he did not have that severe persona that the cops tended to have circle them and it was common for people to glance over him – cuz of his age and not height dammit!- so it was easy for him to get in and out of places to get information with out drawing attention. 

Even after Mustang started sending him off for missions, Ed made a point of helping the police when he was in East City. Having spent a year working with the force, they were all on friendly terms – despite the numerous dresses the officers had forced on Ed. 

Oh yes, being young and lacking the harsh masculine features the rest of the police force had made him the prime choice for missions where a female role was needed. That, and his long hair. His first week at the station he had everyone from the police chief to the academy cadet who worked as an errand boy touch his hair in passing. And then there was Rodgers who had grabbed his braid as he went by, removing the band and causing his plait to come undone. He had been swarmed in a heartbeat; everyone wanted to run his hands through at least once. Ed had fumed and fussed, spewing like a drenched cat, but Rick had managed to handcuff him to Rodgers’ chair while he had his moment of shock at the mass amount of touching. 

It did not help that Rick’s girlfriend, Cloé, was there either. She played with his hair for an entire thirty minutes and then proceeded to paint his face with the travel make-up kit in her purse. He steamed the entire time, glaring daggers at the men around him and pitiful ‘help me’ looks at Al. All his brother did was snicker behind a gauntlet. 

When Cloé was done he had expected laughs and blackmail pictures to be taken, but all he got was smiles that soon faded to thoughtful expressions. He looked around in confusion until Justin Chambers, the police chief, voiced what everyone was thinking.

“You know Edward, you make a really cute girl. I think I have the perfect mission for you.”

Ed shot him a dark glare, not liking the look in the chief’s eyes. It reminded him of the look Teacher had before each lesson. 

“Okay fellows, make sure I get a picture of this. Oh, and make sure he promises not to beat you all up before taking those hand cuffs off.”

And then came the flashes and guffaws - Carl, the academy cadet would still let loose a cat call if they met in the street or when he stopped by for a quick visit. Only the promise of a week of free steak dinners, desert included, pacified him enough to get the handcuffs off. And even then Rodgers and Carl went home with bruises; Rick had two. 

Of course the meat week had to wait until after his mission, one that Mustang gave him no choice but to accept. There was still a photograph of Ed in that café maid’s outfit on Chambers’ wall. And while he had not found it, Ed just knew there was a hidden file somewhere in the station containing pictures of every time he had been forced into a similar situation. 

Ed really wanted to cut his hair after that to prevent a similar mission. But Al had let slip his plans to Winry and she promised to make his automail so heavy he would not be able to grow a millimeter if he did. So his hair stayed long and the number of times he had dressed as the opposite gender exceeded his number of fingers in that first year alone. That hidden file must be really thick by now. 

Thankfully, this was not one of those missions. Nor did he have to be made up to look older or younger. The cops at the station just wanted him to look different than his normal appearance. So Cloé - who had been unofficially in charge of his mission appearance since the handcuff issue and who now spotted a ring to show her position as Rick’s wife - had him don a pair of khakis and a dark green turtle neck. She had also lent him a pair of tinted contact lenses that turned his eyes a light hazel and pulled his hair back into a low pony. 

“Now Edward, you remember what we want you to do?”

“Yeah yeah,” he gave a lopsided wave to Chambers. “Act like a normal kid and see if I can get anything on the missing money. Nothing hard, I’ve been doing this for years remember.”

“Yeah, but we all know that your temper can get in the way of a simple mission and make more work for us. Behave this time, okay?” He shook a finger at Ed. 

“I’ll try, but no promises.” 

“Mr. Elric!” Ed turned to see the newest member of the station walk into the office area. Henry was a good kid, but he still could not bring himself to call the alchemist by his first name. 

“Geez, Henry. Call me Ed, like everyone else around here.”

“S-sorry.”

“It’s alright. What’s up?”

“Someone from the military dropped this off for you.” He held out a small black box. 

“Thanks Henry.” Ed opened it to find a silver stud and bobby pin, transmitter and microphone. While the military had the best in technology not on the black market, Ed would still only be able to participate in one way conversations. The bobby pin could only pick up normal voice levels, and Ed did not want people to see him talking to himself. But he would still be able to hear any instructions. 

It was rather rare that the military provided more than personal for these types of missions, and those were usually in the form of Ed. But while this case had only recently come to the attention of the police, there was evidence it had been going on for quite a while. The ability of the criminal to get away with it for so long, with no evidence of it was something that caused the military to be a little concerned. 

In fact no one was even aware that there was a crime going on until the discrepancies stopped. Mr. Beck had noticed money missing from his textile shop one day. Not being able to account for it, he had figured it was a personal error. He was not young any more. But when he was filling out his yearly tax forms he noticed that those weeks were he was short were far more in number than the previous year. Mr. Beck had fired his only employee based on his suspicions and instead hired a relative who had been looking for work. When the same issue of missing money was made apparent a year later doing tax forms again, he had found it was a repeat of the previous year. The store owner had reported his findings to the station, who advised him to keep a daily tab on the money. Since the report had been filled two months ago, Mr. Beck had found all the money accounted for. 

It was Rodgers who found out things were bigger than they looked. After looking at the accounting records for the past two years from the store he had discovered that weeks where money was missing occurred on a regular basis, every seven weeks. Since Mr. Beck had not noticed any missing money since the file was first opened, someone had known that the elderly man went to the police and had stopped taking money from the till. After asking around it turned out six stores in East City had a similar issue, but they had all put it down to personal error. Looking closely each store had been hit every seven weeks and it was easy to see why the owners had not thought too much of the times when money disappeared, it was never more than four dollars. 

It certainly was troubling that the money had been slipping through the cracks for this long, two years at least, with out anyone being aware of it. But the amount missing was nothing too major; anything that was of public concern was going to cost more than sixteen dollars a month. It was the amount though that a child or down on his luck citizen might go after. 

When Ed stopped at East City for a night before catching a layover train the police force jumped him asking for help. A quick call to Central gave him a till Monday to work with ECPD, Mustang was out of the office till then so Hawkeye said it would be okay for him help out. 

“Do you know where the center is?” Chambers asked.

Ed handed the bobby pin to Cloé and stuck the false earring on. “The teen center? It’s just on Arbra, about a block down from City Hall right?”

The police chief nodded. “It’s called an ‘open night’ tonight. The kids can use the gym and any of the games they have. I think there is a pool and ping pong table too.”

“Sounds like fun.”

He got a bonk in the back of the head from Rodgers. “This is work Ed, not play time.”

“Yeah, I know. Anyone in particular you want me to watch?”

Chambers crossed an arm over his stomach and used it as a support for the other one, which he moved to cup his chin. 

“Kids who are wearing old looking clothes, who might need money.”

“Gotcha. Well then, I’m off!” Ed made for the door.

“Hey wait!” Carl’s voice stopped him. “Where’s your brother? He beat me pretty badly last time and I want to return the favor.”

Ed shook his head, turning to face Carl with a hand on his hips. “As soon as we stepped off the train he saw a lost cat poster so he went out looking for it. But he said he’ld stop by before I’m done.” 

Carl shook his head knowingly. “Typical.”

“Yeah, I know. But what can I do about it?” Ed shrugged, opening the door. 

“Keep in touch!” he tapped his ‘earring’ and left with a smile.


	2. In which Ed cannot cheat at poker

The teen center was meant to provide a place for the teens of East City to hang out at after school and in the evening to prevent them from engaging in other…more problematic pastimes. It seemed to be working, there was always kids hanging out there and stats showed less juvenile arrests. 

Ed shot a dirty look at the basketball court – he would never like that game – before heading inside the building. It was a wide room, about the size of the Mess up at Central. There was a mid sized kitchenette near the back and a semi wall up front set aside space for a two-desk office. Over in a corner there was a game of poker going on, but he passed over the group. As Rodgers said he was not here for his own entertainment. 

Wait a minute – perhaps he could indulge in a game or two. It was hard to believe that under normal circumstances someone with heavily patched jeans would have spare pennies to bet with. He walked over to the group.

“Hey there, can I get in next round?”

All three turned raised their heads to look at him. Ed could get used to the feeling. 

“Do you have pennies?” the long, black haired one asked. 

Ed tapped his front pocket; the chinkling noises that resulted were answer enough. The one who answered grunted and scooted over, as did the one with short black hair allowing Ed to join the small circle. 

“What’s your name anyway?” the first one asked while picking up the cards from the last hand. 

“Jerome,” Ed groaned at his fake name, “but back home they call me Jerry.”

“Back home?” 

“Yeah, I’m here in East City staying with my uncle. So who are you guys?”

“I’m Ryan, and that’s Ben and Ala.” The long, black haired youth pointed to himself, the one with shorter black hair, and then the third who looked like he had Ishbalan blood. Ed figured he should let the cops and military listening in know as much as they could. 

“You Ishbalan Ala?”

“Maybe, you want to make something of it?” The boy glared at Ed, going tense.

“Nah, its cool. I’m from the West and the whole Ishbala culture was always interesting, just cuz its different.”

Ala relaxed. “Yeah well, I couldn’t tell you much about it. I’m only an eighth.”

“ ‘s cool. What are we playing?”

“Five card draw,” Ryan said, starting to deal. 

Not being able to cheat through alchemy – his cover story would not allow him – Ed lost some and gained some, but by the time the center had closed up he was broke. He did not mind so much, the money was Carl’s anyway and it prevented him from getting on the boys’ bad side.

He also had three new friends, at least for the duration of the mission. All three of them lived in the east side of town, which was known as being of poor condition compared to other sections. Ala in particular had wanted to know more about ‘Jerry’, most likely since he accepted his parentage so readily, and Ed had been forced to come up with a more elaborate back story for his cover then the cops had given him. The teens all thought that his parents had died when the house caught fire – Ed wore gloves to hide the burn scars – and the uncle he lived with was in the military and did not really care what Ed did. 

“Hey Jerry, any plans for tonight?” Ben asked.

The couple who ran the center had closed the building for evening and so the four of them had started wandering towards the east end of town. 

“Nope, why?”

“Wanna get a drink?”

“I’m broke, remember?” Ed gave a sheepish smile. 

“Oh yeah…”

Ryan chuckled. “I’ll treat you tonight. Next time you’re on your own.”

Ed groaned. “That means I should get a job if you guys are going to clean me out of my allowance every week. Hey you guys must have jobs to have money right? Do you think you can land me one?”

“Do you really think any one would hire us?” Ala asked, raising an eyebrow. “We don’t exactly look like well to do kids. We should be asking you that question! Go find a job and then recommend us to your boss.”

“But I don’t even know who’s hiring! And you can’t let me believe you get all your pennies from playing poker.”

“We’ll do odd jobs around town,” Ryan put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “You know, fix a door, run some errands for a grandma or something. And usually Racer will have tasks for us.”

“Racer?” 

“Yeah, though he has us do really weird things like going to store to buy something, what ever it is, where the item is only in the back. Or deliver mail. I really don’t know why he just doesn’t use the post office.”

“Who cares?” Ben kicked a stone. “We still get paid don’t we? So don’t complain.”

“Think you could introduce me to him? I don’t mind doing odd jobs until I find a real one. And then I’ll help you guys, promise.” Ed grinned at all of them. 

“Don’t see why not,” Ryan replied. “After school tomorrow then? Fridays and Saturdays are when he usually has the most things for us to do. Where do you go school, we’ll come by to pick you up.”

Ed panicked; he really did not want to make up things anymore that possible for the worry of his cover being spread too thin. “Um…I don’t know yet. Uncle said we were going to sign me up on Monday. But I’ll meet you at the teen center at 3:30 tomorrow. That good?”

“That’s fine.”

“Here we are~!” Ala sing-songed. 

“A bar?! I thought we were going to get soda or something?! We’re all underage!”

“Relax Jerry,” Ala clapped Ed on back. “A relative of mine works as bar keep. As long as we know our limits and pay he doesn’t mind.”

Ed gave him a suspicious look, causing Ala to laugh. 

“Haven’t you had a drink before Jerry?” Ryan asked. 

“No,” came the growled response. He had pretended to drink several times though. Once in a while the police force had him work behind a bar to pick up information, always dressed as girl. Having only four men buy him drinks was a good night. 

“Come on!” Ben shouted from the door. Ala and Ryan followed. Ed hesitated a moment, but no order came through the transmitter to wrap up the evening so with a sigh he joined the boys at the door.


	3. In which people need to learn to keep their paws to themselves

The Sandbag was not much to look at from outside. It could use more than one coat of paint and several of the logs that were used to construct it needed replacing. But the windows were whole, even if they could use some cleaning. The inside was a differently story. 

It was clean and well lit, with wood paneled walls and floor. The tables were sturdy too, with legs made of tree trunks and thin iron chairs. The bar ran on a diagonal between the right and back walls. Ed could see a kitchen beyond it. It seemed however that its cleanliness was the only thing going for it. Normally a joint of this type up keep would be swarming with patrons, but there were only five other men in the bar. The food or drink must be lacking, Ed thought while he gave the place a full sweep. 

He stiffened, feeling someone’s eyes on him from the near left corner. Turning to glare at the male, Ed stopped short to find himself looking at Colonel Mustang sharing a drink with a short, mostly bald older man. Judging by the surprised look on his commanding officer’s eyes, he was not as up to date as Lt. Hawkeye was. He was about to give some subtle clue to not approach him when Ala took care of that for him. 

“Come on Jerry! We’ll start you out with something light.”

Ed abandoned Mustang and made his way to the bar and the open stool next to Ben. The bastard was smart, he could figure it out.

“Really? I expected you guys to give me the worst possible.” As he slipped on to the seat he saw Ryan, who was seated in the middle, elbow Ala hard. 

“Hey! What was that for?” the boy cried. Ed did not hear Ryan’s response over Ben talking to him.

“Ryan wanted to, but Ala ordered before he got the chance.” Ben shook his head and then gave Ed a wink. “We’re still going to get you drunk though, I have a feeling you’ll be a very amusing drunk.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” he sputtered. 

“Nothing, nothing at all.” The knowing smile he gave made it hard for Ed to believe the dark haired boy. 

“Here you are.” The chinkling of glass caused all four boys to look to the bar keeper who had just placed a bottle and four shot glasses down between Ryan and Ben. “That’ll be fifty five cents.”

Ryan, Ala, and Ben turned out their pockets and dumped their pennies and nickels into their hands. They split the bill in quarters, paying fourteen cents each. Well, except for Ryan who was paying for the broke Edward. 

“I like you Jerry,” Ala grabbed the bottle and started pouring, “Having you here means I have to pay less.”

Ed chuckled. “How often do you guys come here?” He accepted a glass that had been passed down the line. 

“Once week or so?” Ben looked at the other two for confirmation before continuing. “Not too much, and we usually don’t finish a bottle so Kalra,” he gestured to the bar keep with his head, “stashes the rest here for us for the next week.”

“We might have to buy a bottle more frequently,” Ryan had slouched down and was looking at the level of liquid in the bottle. “Or just drink a little less.”

“Drink less!” Ala stared at Ryan with a look of horror. “What are you talking about?! We have to get Jerry drunk, remember?”

“Who could forget that? Tonight is going to be really entertaining.” For some reason Ed thought the teen’s smile was much too toothy. “ But I’m saying for the next time we buy a bottle we should still try to make it last two weeks.”

Ed wanted to say Ala looked pouty, but what self-respecting sixteen year old did that? “We’ll see how things go,” the Ishbalan said “but tonight that bottle will be empty before we leave.”

All three turned to look at Ed and grinned. 

“I’m going to regret meeting you guys come tomorrow morning, aren’t I?”

“Most likely.”

“Oh well, at least I don’t have to go to class tomorrow.” 

“You know Ala, Jerry’s got a point there,” Ben said.

“Who cares, it’s not like we do this all the time. It’s a special occasion! Just make sure you drink three glasses of water before going to bed.”

“Does that really work?” Ed asked. 

Ala shrugged. “So my dad tells me.” 

“Huh. Right, so what am I about to drink my self sick with?”

“Vodka. Brewed by myself.” Kalra stood in front of the four of them, drying a glass. “I take it I’ll be seeing you a lot Blondie?” he nodded to Ed. 

He shot a look towards the boys on his left. “I don’t think I have much of a choice in that matter. Call me Jerry.”

“Kalra.” 

“Hey, bar keep!” Someone sat down a few stools from Ed. 

“Talk to you boys later,” Kalra said as he went to help the customer. 

“All right, you ready Jerry?” Ben asked. 

He nodded, grasping the glass with his left hand.

“You’re supposed to chug it all at once. Ready? On the count of three. One, two, three!”

All four of them tilted their heads back and swallowed before laying down their glasses on the counter with thumps. 

“Ugg! That was vile! I need something to wash my mouth out with.” Ed moved his tongue around in his mouth, reenacting his first experience with spirits. 

“Ready for another one?” Ala was already pouring himself and Ryan their second shot. 

“Are you serious? Can’t I have WAHH!”

There was the stale breath of someone who had passed their limit of drinks on his cheek and a stubble covered beard on his shoulder. Thankfully the person was too far gone to give a thought to the feeling of the hard metal plating of his port and potentially give something away that he wanted to keep secret. But what was most uncomfortable was feeling of hands kneading his chest. 

“Huh? Where are your boobs?”

Ed almost couldn’t hear the snickers from the police, even though the transmitter was right in his ear, over his own shout.

“I’M NOT A GIRL!!”

Ed stood up, dug his fingernails into the delicate webbing between the offender’s thumb and forefinger, and kicked his stool back into his stomach. The man crumbled and fell to the ground. Ed stood over him, fuming and red faced from a mix of anger and embarrassment. The man blinked up at him a couple of times. 

“Oh, sorry about that.”

Ed sputtered and then made to leap on him to land a fist on his face when he felt Ben’s hand on his arm. 

“Relax Jerry, he’s drunk.”

“I don’t care! I. Do. Not. Look like a girl!” He thrust his hands up into the air. Ryan fell off his chair, laughing. 

“It’s not funny! Dang it Ryan, stop laughing! Ala!!” The other boy had also slipped off his stool, and was currently leaning against Ryan laughing so hard tears were starting to gather in his eyes. 

Ed cast a glance around bar. He had caused quite a scene, most of the patrons where trying, unsuccessfully, to hide their smiles and did not meet his eyes. Well, all accept that smirking bastard in the corner. Ed just knew the entire office would know about it by the time he returned to Central. Havoc, and certainly Mustang, were never going to let it go. 

“Here,” Ben placed a glass in his hand and Ed knocked it back without a second thought, not expecting the burn as it went down. 

“Bla! I thought that was water, not another round!” He reached for the counter, as if he found himself light headed. 

“You really are a light weight.” Ryan was helping Ala – and receiving the favor in kind – stand. Once up, Ala wiped the tears from his eyes, still on the border of hysteria.

Ed glared. He seemed to be doing a lot of that this night. 

“He didn’t mean anything by it. You should feel honored that someone thought you pretty enough to be a girl.” A vein started throbbing on Ed’s forehead. 

“Yeah, what he said.” 

Ed’s attention snapped back to drunk on the floor. The man put his hands up in defense. 

“Sorry, you’re defiantly not a girl. Only a guy could wind me like that. Truce?”

Ed narrowed his eyes and then sighed deeply, the tension easing from his shoulders. He had been mistaken for a girl so many times it never chafed him for long. Granted, those times he had been aiming for that during under cover missions or his hair had been down –not that he would ever admit that his hair was girly. This was the first time it had happened while not dressed to confuse and one of the few where he was allowed to blow up at the misunderstanding. 

He stuck his hand out, but pulled it away before the drunk could latch on. “Promise to get a good look next time before you try to feel someone up?”

The man nodded. 

“Good.” Edward pulled him up, plopped him on the empty seat next to him, poured a glass for each of them, and tried to ignore the giggling teenagers the left.


	4. In which Ed gains a family member

They left the Sandbag much later then they should have for a Thursday night, moving in a slow stumbling mass that clung to each other. Curses would crop up occasionally; someone stumbled and half dragged their neighbor down with them, someone else rocked sideways and hit the side of a building, someone just missed getting their neighbors’ shoes dirty in the process of being sick. But each curse was followed by heady giggle from one of the boys not involved. 

Most of the stumbling and cursing was coming from Ed, but Ben was doing a fair share himself. The fourth time Ed stumbled and half fell in as many meters ended with his butt on the ground. Ryan had let go and a little cloud of dirt stirred up when the blonde hit the earth. 

“Geezes Jerry! You’re heavy! This is the last time we get you drunk,” Ryan tried to speak forcibly, but he was swaying on his feet and was talking slower than normal in a effort to not slur his words. 

“But…he put on quite the show.” Ala draped a hand over Ryan’s shoulders. The dark skinned boy had a tolerance far above his companions. He could still walk in a straight line and kept his voice at normal level. Ala flashed a smile at the collapsed Ed. “I had no idea you knew such a dirty song.”

“Or could dance like that,” Ben added, leaning on the other side of Ala. “You’ll be a hoot at the festival in a couple months.”

“Whafest’val?” Ed asked, not bothering with the effort to tilt his head up and instead looked at the teens’ knees. 

“Come on man, let’s get you home,” Ala wiggled out between the other boys, taking care to prop Ben against Ryan before reaching down and pulling Ed to his feet. “Ryan’s right you know, you need to lose a couple of pounds!”

Ed just glared, not trusting himself to speak. Ala chuckled as the four of them once again formed a mass of unsteady human flesh and made their way down the street. They turned the corner, planning on dropping Ryan off first because he was the closet when Ed stopped at sight of a tall, black haired figure making his way toward them. They all landed in a heap on top of each other. 

“Dang it Jerry! What youdotah for?” Ryan shot a dirty look at Ed before he noticed the person who had stopped just a meter away. 

“Jerry.” It was the voice of a rock; cold, unfeeling, neutral. It matched the face that it emerged from; chiseled and blank. Of course Roy Mustang just had to wait for him, damn bastard! Ed really was hoping that once the colonel had realized he was undercover he would make his way back to the police station. Stupid pyromaniac who lived to make his life difficult!

“Shit. You’re Jerry’s uncle aren’t you?” Ala asked, struggling to push the other boys’ weight off him so he could stand. “Um, sorry about keeping him out late…” he trailed off as Mustang reached down and forced Ed to his feet. 

“I’ll take him, thanks.” Ed’s arm was forced around Mustang’s waist and felt the other’s hand go around his waist to help him stay upright. As they started walking off he heard Ben shout after him. 

“3:30 ‘morrow Jerry! Donyouforhet!” There was a soft thunk and mumbled curse. Ala had most likely hit the other boy in the back of the head. Ed could not help but smile. This mission was not so bad, except for the guilty feeling that came over him at the thought that this whole friendship was based on lies. 

They turned a corner and now out of sight Ed shrugged off the colonel’s arms. “Let go of me bastard, I don’t need your help.”

“It didn’t look that that a moment ago.”

“I was acting,” Ed hissed back. He had only downed four shots that night, more than enough for a ‘first timer’ as Ala had labeled him, but back when he had first joined forces with the East City Police Department Rick and Carl spent a few nights teaching him how to hold his liquor. He had enjoyed the sessions while they happened, hated them and the world the next morning, but could never deny that it was the most useful thing – aside from alchemy- that he had been taught. Without them, there was no way half of his missions would have been successful. 

Of course, he had a couple tricks up his sleeve too. Adding the drunk to the party diminished the amount he had to drink and when no one had been looking he transmuted his glass under the counter to make the glass shallower that it had been. So he really had only had about three drinks, just enough to feel warm. 

Mustang gave him a look that clearly said he did not believe him, but after Ed had walked by himself – in a straight line and with out the slurring that was evident earlier – he stepped into stride besides the major.

“That was really lucky back there, you know?!” Ed snarled, disentangling the bobby pin from his hair and then setting to work on taking off the earring, turning them both off. “Why couldn’t you have just waited for me at the police station? You know I help them out all the time with stuff like this.”

“I wasn’t sure you were. Last time I checked Fullmetal, the police don’t have equipment like that.” Mustang nodded toward the electronics in Ed’s hand. 

Ed looked downed and blinked at the tools he clutched. The bastard had a good point, not that he would let him know Ed had not thought about it like that.

“The military’s interested, cuz this has been going on under their noses for two years and they just found out a couple of month ago.”

“And ‘this’ is?” They had reached the station and Mustang opened the door, leaving Ed to slip in after him before it closed. 

Ed took the lead, heading toward the back offices where he knew the others would be waiting for him. “Someone’s stealing money from local shops. Not too much, about sixteen dollars a month. They take about four each week from a different shop on a rotation. Everyone thought it was simply a clerical error until Rodgers found patterns.”

A whistle sounded from the kitchen as they passed. Mustang raised an eyebrow at his subordinate. 

“Carl, you better be making coffee in there,” Ed growled, stalking forward to lean against the doorframe. 

“Oh course, I’ve been working with you too long Beautiful. By the way, I heard what happened tonight.”

Ed’s eyes hardened. Mustang let loose a snicker from behind him so Ed stomped on his foot, with his left one. 

“You have two seconds to hand me a mug Carl.” 

The sandy haired man paled at the killing intent in Ed’s voice, replying in the upper registers of a ten year old. “It’s not done yet. Give it a minute and I’ll bring it to the conference room.”

Ed turned and left the kitchen, Mustang following. 

“Does that happen often?”

“No, usually it’s a cat call. But I’m just not in the mood tonight, it’s late.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Knowing you, yes. But you got enough ammunition tonight.”

“True,” Mustangs voice was filled with future promises. Ed clenched his fist. “Listen Colonel Bastard - ”

“Ni-san! You’re back! Oh, good evening Colonel.” 

“Hey Al, did you find that cat?”

“Yep! Ah Ni-san, she looked so soft and fuzzy!”

“I’m glad you found her.”

“Edward, quite lolly-gagging and get in here!” Chambers’ voice drifted from behind the door Alphonse was standing in. Al moved out of the way and took off, mostly likely to help Carl in the kitchen. Ed strode in, Mustang right behind him. 

“Who’s this?” the police chief asked.

“Hmm?” Ed looked behind him at Mustang. Right, no uniform. “This is my CO, Colonel Mustang. He saw me in the Sandbag and then showed up when we were leaving.”

“Ah, the ‘uncle’. Well, thanks for letting us use Edward here for this mission Colonel, he’s a great asset. I’m the police chief Justin Chambers, that there is my deputy Walter Rodgers, Sergeant Carl Monroe is in the kitchen. And this here is First Lieutenant Morgan.” Chamber pointed to each in turn, Morgan being the only one in military blue. “He’s from the Bureau of Investigations here at East HQ.”

Morgan snapped a solute to Ed and Mustang. Mustang answered it and then took up a position leaning against the wall, but Ed just made his way over to an empty seat next to Rodgers. 

“I think we might be on to something with this Racer guy,” Ed began. “Did you hear what types of jobs he gives out? Deliveries and distractions.” He pushed the communication equipment toward Mogran with a nod of thanks. “He’s pretty sneaky.”

“I want you to be careful tomorrow Ed,” Chambers pointed a finger at him. “No unnecessary risks, don’t draw attention. Just get us enough evidence to search his place. And don’t go jumping to conclusions either, he may not be involved.”

“Yeah yeah.”

“Coffee!” Carl and Al came in bearing trays. Carl made sure Ed got the first mug. “Did I miss anything?”

“Not at all,” Rodgers answered. 

“You won’t have use of these next time,” Morgan gestured to the microphone and transmitter, “but if you need any information from the military I’ve been told to give it to you.”

“Thank you Lieutenant.” Chambers replied. Morgan nodded and got up to leave. 

“How long will you be here, Colonel Mustang?” Rodgers asked.

“Fullmetal and I will be taking the Sunday evening train.”

“We’ll have to make this quick then. You up for it Ed?”

“I’ve finished in a weekend before, this won’t be any different.”

“Right,” Chambers stood up. “It’s late, go home and sleep. Ed, I want you here at two.” 

“Yes sir.”

The room emptied out, the officers going to their desks to collect their jackets and coats while Ed, Al, and Mustang made their way out of station. 

“How come you call him ‘sir’ and not me Fullmetal?”

“Cuz I like him better.”


	5. In which a job is assigned

The boys led him to the ran-shack part of East City, the area where families were pressed to pawn off everything but their gold fillings just to stay afloat. Many lived pay check to pay check, a few lived in a debt so deep that come the end of the month they would lose the roof over their heads, and a rare fewer managed to save up enough after years of tight spending, long hours, and luck to move someplace better. 

Racer was even rarer. Calling the building Ben, Ala, and Ryan brought him to a house was being generous, but it was more than a shack. Ed was fairly positive the only thing holding it up was the two-story apartment building on one side and the large pile of wood against the wall of the building’s other. It was one of the more desperate houses in the area, and its owner did not suit it at all. The man was tall and full, well fed and well cleaned unlike his neighbors. Even his clothes were of a better caliber. 

Ed eyed him from behind the other boys, using his height -intentionally and not because he did not have another option! -to his advantage to escape being seen right away. Racer was younger than he expected, younger even than Mustang’s thirty. A thick bush of dark red hair sat on his head and hazel eyes shone from between long bangs. He was fit, but the kind that came from running and not fighting. Despite the height differences, Ed figured he would win a fight in a couple of minutes. 

“So, anything the four of us can do for you Racer?” Ryan rocked back on his heels as he asked. 

“Four?” the adult stood on his tiptoes as if to get a better view. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m short, I get it already!” Ed huffed as he elbowed his way between Ala and Ben. 

Racer raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth up lifting a little. Ala snickered. 

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

Ed glared and made a skeptical noise. "Uh huh."

“This is Jerry.” Ryan pointed over his shoulder at the blonde. “He’s new in town and needs help replenishing his supply of coins after the way he played cards last night.” 

Ed made of show of crossing his arms and grumbling, turning his gaze to the earthen street. Racer let out a joyous belly laugh. 

“That so?” the red head placed his hands on his waist and smiled, almost fondly, down at Edward. “I do happen to have a couple of tasks that I could use done.” 

Ed’s head popped up, his eagerness matching that coming off of the other boys as well. 

“I’ll give you a dime each. You remember that textile shop owned by Mr. Beck?”

“That old guy with the round glasses?” Ryan asked. “What about it?”

“Well,” Racer continued. “We had a disagreement the other day and I’ve decided to shop else where. But of course I still want to help out the local businesses so can you find someplace else for me to buy cloth from?”

“What type of disagreement?” Ed asked. “Back home I always use to argue with the butcher over prices, but I still always went to the same one.”

“Jerry,” Ala said in a low hiss.

“What?” Ed asked, equally as low. 

“It’s not polite to ask questions. He might not give us another job.”

“It’s a reasonable question Ala,” Racer interrupted them. “You see Jerry, I thought Mr. Beck’s new employee, a cousin of his, was keeping some money for himself. When I told him of my concerns, Mr. Beck got angry at me, said something about insulting the family and to take my business elsewhere.”

“He doesn’t sound like a nice man,” Ed answered. “You were only trying help.”

“That’s right. And now can you all help me?”

“No problem,” Ben beamed at the adult. 

“Good. And couple more things if you have the time. I’ll give you each another nickel. Can you stop by a flower stall in the market for me? I need a couple bags of fertilizer, with lots of ammonia in it. And see if you can grab some metal scraps from an automail shop.” Racer dug into his pockets and pulled out some coins to spill into Ryan’s hand. “Use that to pay for the items. I’ll pay you for your work when you get back.”

“What do you need scrapes for?” Ed was getting a sinking feeling in his stomach, hoping that he was just jumping to conclusions. 

Racer’s friendly persona disappeared. Instead his eyes went flat and his voice turned toneless into such a mask of emotionless that it made Mustang’s seem to be the work of a toddler. “A thirst for knowledge can be a good thing, but if you ask too many questions you're just nosy and nosy people get hurt.”

Ed wanted to glare defiantly back, but instead widened his eyes and took half a step back to show that ‘Jerry’ was very easily intimidated. Plus the barb rang true, if he had not wanted to know so much perhaps he would have fewer scars on his skin and heart. Perhaps Hughes would still be alive. 

Ryan coughed to clear his throat. “We’ll be on our way then Racer.” He made his way down the three steps leading to the door, pulling Ed after him by his shirtsleeve. Ed went placidly. 

“Man Jerry,” Ben said once they were out of hearing, almost stepping on Ed’s heels. “Told you not to ask questions.”

“He wouldn’t really hurt anyone, would he?”

“Who knows? I mean, things happen in this part of town all the time. I wouldn’t put it pass him though, if he can make that type of face. It’s best just to play it cool and only worry about the money.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind. But maybe we should have seen if anyone in the neighborhood needed anything done before we went to see Racer?”

“What’s this?” Ala put on a face of mock surprise. “Little Jerry, you were the one who wanted to met Racer. Worried you made the wrong choice?”

“No!” Ed clenched his hands at the nickname the dark skinned boy had given him, but held back his out burst. “He’s just a little different that I expected him to be.” 

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed, releasing his hold on Ed and dropping back so they could walk four abreast. “But he really is a nice guy. I mean, who else would pay us this much? Fifteen cents is a lot for what we’re doing.”

“I guess,” Ed said hesitantly, “So where to first?” 

“We’ll check out the stores first, we don’t want to lug around Racer’s stuff the entire time do we?”

“I don’t know, Ala’s energetic enough today. Maybe we can let him carry it all and use up all of that energy.”

“Good luck with that,” Ben clapped Ed on the back. “But it won’t work, we’ve tried.”


	6. In which Ed becomes a god

They headed out towards East City’s main business center but then turned south before reaching it. 

“Um guys,” Ed asked in an uncertain voice, “Aren’t the stores that way?” He pointed a finger towards the main drag. Of course Ed knew that there were other shopping areas, cheaper and less crowded through out the city. They were most likely heading toward Iris Street, but his cover did not allow him to know such things. The boys around him thought he had been in town for only a couple of days, not practically lived there for years. 

“Hmm? Oh yeah,” Ryan answered. “But Racer doesn’t like going to there, he says it too crowded. It’s kinda overpriced too, since its near the train station and all the visitors hit all those stores. You’ll learn Jerry, us locals go to smaller, more local centers.” 

Ed shrugged. “Makes sense, I guess. I’m all for saving money.”

“Yeah! So I can win it off you in poker again!” Ala slung an arm over Ed’s shoulder. 

Ben snickered and Ed glared at the fair-haired boy that attached himself to his upper body. “Next time Ala, next time I think I’ll be winning.”

“Yeah?” Ben turned around to walk backwards to look at Ed and Ala while he talked. “I think you won, what? Three hands total?”

“Hey, if there’s beginner’s luck stands to reason that there’s beginner’s bad luck too right?”

Ben lighted a finger, opened his mouth to speak, and then promptly closed it without making a sound. He tried again. “Maybe – ”

“Look out idiot!” Ryan’s warning came to late and Ben collided with a street performer who had been juggling fire lit sticks. The performer panicked; he dropped one stick, missed another, and the one he had just tossed got just a little to much oomph. It soared over his head and just missed Ala’s nose to land hissing on the sidewalk. 

The juggler turned around, a scowl on his face and the fires of Hell in his eyes landing on Ben. Ben did what any other carelessly roaming teenager would do – gave a mangled scream and ran as fast as he could down the street in the opposite direction. 

Ed, Ala, and Ryan chased after him, all four only slowing after several quick turns to throw off their pursuer, who did not chase them after all. They stood for a moment, panting and grinning goofily at each other when a voice sounded to them from the store they stood in front of. 

“Getting into trouble?”

Ed’s head snapped up, quickly assessing the person leaning in the doorway of shop before relaxing. Curses, he was on a mission and should be alert and know his surroundings at all time! But it was so easy to pretend to be a normal teenager with this group. 

Ala gave the guy a sly look. “Not really.”

The stranger laughed. “Right, I remember those times. Wasn’t too long ago for myself.”

“This your shop?” Ryan asked. Ed guessed he had already deduced that store was the kind they were looking for. The display of clothes and fabrics in the windows was a pretty big clue. 

“Yup, name’s Tom Zeh. You boys want some water?”

They turned him down with thanks and made their way down the street. All four of them made sure to look at the name of the road they were on at the next intersection. 

“Well, there’s a dime for each us.” Ben interlaced his fingers and placed them behind his head. 

“Now what?” Ed asked, “The fertilizer or metal?”

“I vote fertilizer,” Ala said. “It lighter.”

“Well yeah,” Ryan affirmed, “But it would be easier to carry the metal. No big bags to carry.”

“Vote not carrying!” Ala’s hand shot up in the air, followed closely by Ben’s.

“Me neither!”

Ryan sighed and looked to Ed. “Guess you and I are the only two men here Jerry.”

Ben sputtered. “Hey!”

Ed laughed. 

They ran into a bit of snag at the automail store; Racer had told them to get scraps but he had not said what type of metals he preferred. They stood outside the first shop for a while debating it until Ed just huffed and went through the door by himself. Fifteen minutes later he came out with a couple of pieces in his hands and dumped them in Ala’s arms. 

“What’d you get?” Ryan asked. 

“Some steel and some types of iron.”

Ben tried to raise an eyebrow, but it refused to move by itself so the other tagged along. “Why those?”

Ed shrugged, “They’re strong, sturdy stuff. You can make and do a lot with them. What?” All three boys were looked rather strangely at him.

Ben spoke first. “I think we’ve found a nerd.”

“Wh-what?” Ed said in indignation. 

“You have to help me with my homework Jerry!” Ala dropped the metal in his hands and clutched at Ed’s left sleeve. 

“Um…no.”

“Please!” 

Ed did not realize any boy over the age of ten knew how to make puppy dog eyes. He sighed in defeat. “Alright, alright, I’ll help. All of you,” he added, anticipating the question. 

“Bless you Oh Mighty One,” Ala made a half bow to Ed before leaning down all the way to pick up his dropped scrap metal. 

“I don’t think you quite know what you’re getting into here Jerry,” Ryan said. “Ala’s a dunce.”

“Am not!” 

“Tsk tsk, children,” Ed mocked scolded. “Come on, let’s hurry and get this done.”

“Yes Mother,” they all chorused. Ed ground his teeth.   
\--

Racer was quite please by their success, but seemed most impressed with the types of metal scraps they brought back.

“Steel, cast iron, regular iron, spiegeleisen. Where’d you get that from?”

“Jerry insisted we go to one of the fancy shop near the center to see if any place had some. Does it work okay?”

The red head looked up from checking the scraps to look at Ed. “Did you pick out the fertilizer too Jerry?”

Ed nodded slowly, as if he were shy and did not want the attention. “Its what you wanted, right?”

“I couldn’t have picked out anything better myself. In fact, I’m so grateful I’ll pay you all twenty cents instead of fifteen.” 

All four boys looked at each other and grinned. 

“Thanks Racer!” Ryan chirped as the man placed all the promised coins into his hands. He divided it up and gave each teen his due. 

They waved good-bye to Racer and set off down the street. Ed felt a prickling on the back of neck the entire way. He tried to act as if nothing was wrong, but his instincts had always kept him alive. A quick check to his surroundings did not show anything, so when the turned the corner he looked back towards Racer’s house real quick. The man was still on that small front porch, and staring at him. Ed was not sure it that was a good or bad thing.


	7. In which the music goes 'dun dun dun!'

Ed joined Ala, Ben, and Ryan in eating shaved ice before making his excuses to leave.

“I’m sorry! But my uncle’s trying to be a family man and all that. He’s insisting that I help him make dinner tonight. Have you ever had to say no to an officer? They really don’t leave you much choice.” Ed gave a depressed shrug.

Ben sighed, “Fine, fine. We release you from your duties.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “We’ll see you around, right Jerry?”

“You bet’cha!” Ed waved and headed towards the northwest corner of the city, where most of the military personal lived. Once out of sight he changed course and headed towards the East City Police Department.

It was rather nice to walk down the streets without catching stares. Granted he liked the attention Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist got from the people but it was nice to get away from it once in a while. It was typically hard to hide his eye color, so he wanted to get a full use out of the contact lenses ECPD had given him for the mission.

Regardless, he might have drawn a little too much attention from Racer. He paused to admire a pair of shoes in a window frame –who wouldn’t want black, platform boots with a _steel_ toe? – before continuing to the station. He’d see what Rodgers and Chambers had to say.

He pushed open the door and waved to Carl who was helping Henry take a statement from man upset about a broken window. He held up three fingers to indicate Rick, Rodgers and Chambers were waiting for him in the back and then slowly raised a fourth. Ed gave him a baffled look and then almost cracked up laughing as Carl stood stone stiff and gave a handbook example of a military salute. Mustang was in back as well.

“Ed! How’d it go?” Rick asked as soon as Ed found himself in the office part of the building.

“Um…the mission was, successful?”

“I take it what you found means trouble.” Mustang walked out of the kitchen with a plate of what looked liked leftovers from a pasta dinner one of the police officers had the night before.

Ed nodded before turning back to Rick. “Where are the others?”

“They went to give dinner to guy we have locked up. Should be back soon.”

“Bastard, any more of that left?” Ed nodded towards Mustang’s plate.

“I’m sure there are a few _small_ bites left.”

Ed clenched his fists and ground his teeth before brushing past Mustang to gain access to the kitchen. By the time he found and heated up his food Rodgers and Chambers returned. Al showed up too. Ed figured he had spent the day at the animal shelter.

Seeing him, Chambers headed over to the conference room and the rest of them followed. “So Ed, what’d you find out?”

Ed took the time to finishing chewing his mouthful before answering. “The next target is a shop owned by Tom Zeh. It’s on the outskirts of Iris Street.”

He took another forkful as Rodgers wrote things down.

“Sir,” Ed began, looking directly at the police chief, “I don’t think this can be wrapped up by the end of the weekend.”

“What do you mean?”

“This guy, Racer, I can’t tell if he’s the alchemist or someone else is, but he had us get fertilizer and scrap metal.”

“I don’t follow,” Rick said.

“Fertilizer has ammonia in it,” Al explained. “It can be used to make explosives.”

A low whistle came from the direction of the door, coming from Carl who just entered. “So this guy is serious.”

Ed nodded. “We already knew that money had been taken for two years now, but it’s being used to buy alchemic supplies. And the house Racer’s in is no place for large transmutations. It’s going on somewhere else. We just can’t take him in and have everything stop.”

Chambers sighed, running the fingers of his left hand up the bridge of nose to his forehead before bringing them back to table. “You’re not doing this alone Ed.”

The blonde scoffed. “ ‘Course not, the bastard has to help.” He jerked a thumb at Mustang, who shot Ed a disgruntled look.

“No I don’t Fullmetal. Don’t forget I’m your superior.”

“You do get that this is important right? High risk?”

“Yes, and that you can’t leave this case if we want a chance like this. But you don’t need me. Have one of these officers help you out instead.”

“Ala, Ben, and Ryan have already identified _you_ as the uncle I’m staying with. If that changes it’ll be a risk to the mission, undermining my cover.” Ed shot back.

Mustang glared, about to retort when Rodgers cleared his throat.

“Ed’s right. We really don’t have another choice if we want to solve this case.” The deputy began. “And since we already know the military’s interested there shouldn’t be too big of a problem having you placed here right?”

“No,” Mustang almost growled, shooting Ed a look before crossing his arms. “But this also means Alphonse has to leave.”

“What?!” “Why?!” Both teens raised objection.

“Because Alphonse is too noticeable. He’s never far from you Fullmetal, so people are bound to get suspicious of ‘Jerry’ on looks alone. If you want to keep your cover intact, he has to go.”

“Bastard,” Ed growled under his breath, but he knew Mustang was right.

“It’s okay Brother,” Al piped. “I’ll go visit Granny and Winry.”

Ed’s shoulder’s slumped in defeat. “Fine.”

“Right, anything else we should know Ed?” Chambers asked.

Ed paused, unsure as to what was okay to divulge and what was not. “I think I’ve…attracted Racer’s attention. He stared at me while I was walking away.”

“Lots of people stare when you walk by Ed.” Carl said with a wink.

There was a flash of blue light and Carl found himself the target of small wooden spheres transmuted from the table and a piercing gaze from a blonde. Rick let loose a chuckle.

“Not like that you idiot,” Ed spat out. “I drew attention to myself by getting things that are good for transmutations. Racer knows I have some knowledge of alchemy now, but doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. I’ll just have to convince him that I can help him out.”

“So nothing you can’t handle,” Rick said. “But thanks for letting us know.”

Ed shrugged. “You’d ‘ve chewed me out if someone else told you.”

“Right then,” the police chief placed his hands on the table and stood up. “Everyone go home and get some sleep. Ed make sure you fix the table before you leave.” He eyed the shallow craters around the alchemist.

“Yes sir.”

The police left, leaving Al and Ed to pick up the wooden ammunition. Mustang stayed behind, leaning against the wall watching them work. Ed grumbled under his breath about useless colonels while placing the transmuted wood back on the table to return it to its previous state.

Beckoning to Al, Ed made his way out of the police station, Mustang following behind them. When they were a block or two away from the building Mustang spoke.

“You’ve done a lot of these types of missions? You seem pretty comfortable with all this, and the officers all seem to know what you can handle.”

Ed snorted, using his left hand to brush a stray piece of hair out of his face. “You never read my reports?”

Mustang’s steps halted just a little and Ed smirked in triumph. “Not all the way through; usually just the parts about how well you worked with ECPD. I did not bother myself in reading the mission details.”

Ed stared at his superior and mumbled “lazy bastard” under his breath.

“Brother,” Al spoke hesitantly. “What didn’t you tell them?”

Ed sighed and scuffed his right foot along the ground. “Racer wanted some metal too, automail scraps. So I got him some steel, iron, cast iron, and…spiegeleisen.”

“Cast iron’s iron and silicon, right?” Mustang asked. “What’s in spiegeleisen?”

“Iron, right Brother?”

“Uh-huh, with silicon and carbon.” Ed shoved his hands in his pockets and watched his brother think.

“Iron, carbon, silicon,” Al muttered under his breath.

“Don’t forget the fertilizer,” Ed chimed.

Alphonse added ammonia to his list. “Iron, carbon, silicon, ammonia…”

Ed decided to help him out a little bit. “Water, 35 liters. Ammonia, 4 liters. Phosphorus-”

“800 grams,” Al finished in a whisper. “No, he couldn’t be. Why would anyone want to have a large group work on that, or even find the people willing to do it?”

“Hold on a minute,” Roy interrupted. “What are you guys talking about? What didn’t you tell the officers Fullmetal?”

Ed closed his eyes and tilted his head back before taking a deep breath and looking Mustang in the eyes. “Racer’s gathering materials for human transmutation.”


	8. In Which Ed Wakes Up Earlier Than Planned

Ed woke up to the sight of his brother leaning over him. 

“Al,” he mumbled, “It’s too early to wake up.”

“Someone’s knocking on the door.”

“Huh?” But now that he listened for it, he heard a soft sound coming from the door. 

“You could’ve let ‘em in,” Ed said as he rolled out of bed. 

“I figured you might want to get dressed first.”

He looked down at his obvious bare chest and decided his brother had a good point. Opening the door in your underwear was typically frowned upon. 

The knock came again, louder this time. 

“Be with you in a minute!” Ed broadcasted as he searched through his suitcase for clean clothes. He found clean pants and settled for a shirt that looked the least wrinkled. 

Al opened the door after his brother nodded an okay as his arms found the correct holes. 

“Good morning Al.”

“Good morning Ms. Cloé.” 

Cloé stuck her head around Al to greet Ed. “Morning Ed. Oh! Your hair’s down. Can I braid it for you?”

“Um…I guess,” he shrugged and headed into the bathroom to grab his comb and hair band form the sink.

“What brings you hear this early?” Ed asked as he sat on the edge of the bed. Cloé settled behind him. 

“It’s ten o’clock Ed,” She held her hand out for the comb. 

“Well, I find that early,” he grumbled.

Cloe sighed, gathering his hair in her hand to start the plait. “Your CO’s been up for awhile now.”

Ed snorted. “Good for him.”

“Ed! You really should show him some more respect.”

“I will when I feel like it. Ow!” Cloé had given a tug on his hair and Al snickered. 

“You two will be living in close quarters for awhile. Promise me you’ll try to get along?”

“And no destroying things Brother,” Al chimed in.

Ed glared at the armor sitting across from him before sighing in defeat. “Yeah, yeah. I promise.”

“Good. Band please,” Ed handed it back over his shoulder. “Now, I came to take you two to the train station.” 

“But I thought our tickets were for later today, why do we have to leave so soon Ms. Cloé?” Al asked.

“Well, Justin and Colonel Mustang made some adjustments. It’s known that the Fullmetal Alchemist is here at the moment so he has to leave in order to give ‘Jerry’ some security.”

Ed pulled away when he felt Cloé finish with his hair and turned to look at her. “So, what stop do I get off on?”

“Chauncey, it’s the second stop. I think Carl is driving you back. By that time Colonel Mustang should have a house picked out for you two to stay in.”

“It better be big enough for me to have my own room,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. 

“I’ll let him know, but no promises. Now, I’ll help you pack. The train leaves in just under an hour.”

* * *

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Al asked again.

Ed waited to respond until his head popped through the shirt he was changing into. 

“Don’t worry about me, I’ve done similar missions before and while Mustang’s a bastard he’s not completely useless. And don’t you dare tell anyone I said that.”

“We’ll see.” 

“Aall!”

The armor giggled, but quickly turned solemn. “Play it safe, please Brother? I know you want to stop him, and I really wish I could help you, but I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Ed paused in undoing his braid to look at his younger brother. Sighing, he collapsed into the seat across from him and ran his flesh hand through his bangs. “I’ll play it safe, by my standards. Look before leaping and all that, and at least leave a note if I sneak out. How’s that sound?”

The pin pricks of light that served as Al’s eyes it up. “Thanks Brother.”

“This means you have to stay out of trouble too.” Ed shook his right index finger at Al before returning to his hair. 

The younger Elric chuckled. “Sure Brother.”

“Chauncey in five minutes,” announced a train worker walking down the aisle.

Ed finished switching his hair from braid to ponytail and stood up. “That’s my cue.” 

Al looked at Ed and the blonde gave him a winning smile, eyes hazel from the contacts full of confidence. “I’ll be fine. Oh.”

Ed unclipped the pocket watch from his pants and dropped it into his brother’s waiting gauntlet. His trademark coat was already packed into the suitcase at Al’s feet. “Take care of that for me, will ya?”

“Mmmhmm.”

The train was coming into the station now and with a great hiss the machine came to a stop in a cloud of smoke. 

“See you around Al,” and with that Ed drew a large breath before turning around and walking down the aisle with a little bounce in his step towards the exit. 

It took him awhile, but eventually he found Carl waiting for him towards the middle of the platform. Ed did not realize it was him at first, usually he preferred to keep his sandy hair uncovered. He had to say, the man looked really silly in a hat. 

“Jerry, how was your trip?”

“Normal,” Ed shrugged. 

Right. He was supposed to be Jerry all the time now, aside from the house with Mustang. No knowledge of military more than a nephew would know and only theoretical knowledge of alchemy. Orphan who lost his parents to a fire not too long ago and shuffled off to live with an uncle in the military who did not give him much of a second thought. He would have to ask Mustang about his own cover and might need to think of a limbo place he could have been before coming. When hanging with Ben, Ryan, and Ala the other day he had not exactly been a grieving kid. Maybe a grandma who could not provide for him in the long term, yeah that would work. And a developed fear of fire. 

Carl led him to a waiting wagon; the pair of horses connected to it tied up to the hitching post. Ed climbed onto the seat a little less graceful than Carl, but the officer was kind enough to just smirk a bit before backing up and heading towards East City. Without a car it would take them a good two hours to get there, but they did not have much of a choice. Only the really rich or the high ranking officers ever rode in one and that was not an image that they wanted to present. 

“Right,” Carl began once they were the only ones in sight. “No contact. At all, okay? You tell your CO things and he’ll tell us.”

Well that made things easier, he could let Mustang determine what to tell ECPD. They did not have to know Racer was gathering supplies for human transmutation. It was better if they thought it was simply a money and bomb scheme. 

“What about emergencies?”

“Lost kitten ad on lamppost on the corner of Iris and Marr. Rick walks by there everyday on his way to work. Oh here,” Carl handed over a key.

Ed turned it over in his hand before pulling up his right sleeve. He clapped and touched the panel on his automail forearm; a panel swung open on a hinge to revel the wires underneath. Off to the left was a small slot he had made previously that he slipped the key in. If his cover was blown, he would have to get to a safe house and stay away from what ever place Mustang had found or the police station to not draw attention there. It was practical to store the key for it in his automail, always on him and always hidden. 

“What’s it to?”

“The top apartment of the red brick building with green shutters on Abra, number 11.”

“Right. Thanks.”

“No prob. And I know you’ve probably heard several times from Cloé, Al, and your CO, not to mention the Chief, but keep your head down and play it safe.”

Ed deflated and sunk against seat. “Yeah, yeah. And don’t blow anything up.”

Carl laughed. “You better. Isn’t the point of trying to stop Racer preventing things from going boom?” 

“Ah…good point.”


	9. In which Ed is welcomed home

Carl dropped Ed off at a small local market and then took off after telling him where the house Mustang was renting was. Ed gave a wave goodbye and with a ‘see you later Jerry’ Carl clucked and started the wagon forward. 

Ed walked along the streets, taking care to look at everything as if he was seeing it for the first time. Some of it, he was. He had never really held an interest in the Parade Block, as the section was known as. It was where a lot of career military men and women ended up living and Ed rarely interacted with anyone in blues not of Mustang’s unit. 

He spent longer then needed wandering around to get used to the scenery. There were a lot of condos and townhouses, houses next to each other with mirrored floor plans. The monotony would drive him crazy if he stayed for so long. He needed a lot more space for a permanent settlement. 

Ed did not know Mustang’s reason for picking the location he did, but Ed was glad for it when he finally came up to it. The house was on the south end of the military section, meaning it was one of the old original parts of the Parade Block from before the region extended north where the cookie cutter houses were built. Which also meant that their current home was close to the civilian part of East City. There was less of a chance of someone from the military would see him and talk about seeing the Fullmetal Alchemist in town. 

Digging into his pocket Ed climbed the stairs to the front door and dug out the key chain Carl had given him along the route. He pushed opened the door to a mini lobby; there was a door in front of him, two in wall mailboxes to the left, and a second door to the right. 

Giving a look towards the door directly in front of him, Ed walked over to the left wall to check the names on the mailboxes. Apartment one was empty by the looks of it and the second one had the names “Ron Matte” and “Jerome Matte” underneath the brass number. 

Shrugging, Ed turned around and stuck the key he had dug out earlier in to the door across the hall. It opened to a set of stairs that creaked when he stepped on it. 

“Jerry?” 

So Mustang was here, not that he really expected the colonel to be out much. 

“Yeah, it’s me.”

He continued up the stairs, noticing that they all made some type of noise as he did so. The seventh one actually made a sound like a gun shot that caused him to jump. Man, this house was old. 

“The movers are here,” Mustang called out next, just as Ed reached the top of the stairs and stepped into the living room. 

“I can see that,” Ed said looking around. Mustang was in civvies, directing two men in coveralls in the placement of the furniture that occupied the center of the room. A couch, bookshelves, an armchair, and three tables of various sizes. 

“Which one’s my room?”

Mustang turned and contemplated the three doors behind him. “The one on the far right. You’ll be making more midnight trips to the kitchen then me.”

“Har har,” Ed made his way over to the mentioned door with out looking at the other men in the room.

As far as rooms went, it was not half bad. A bed, end table, dresser, and small wardrobe left little room for floor space, but it was enough for him to do strength exercises and that was all he really needed. He crawled over his bed to look out the sole window and was greeted with a wonderful view of the house next door. So much for natural light, he scoffed. The first thing to get would be some curtains; he really did not need some one peering into his room while washing dishes. Moving the bed would be a must too. 

He set about doing that himself, rotating it so was along the other wall and moved his dresser to the other side of the window from it’s previous space now occupied from the bed. 

“You need help kid?”

Ed looked up from wedging the bed in the corner to see the movers standing in the doorway. 

“Nah, thanks though. I’m almost done anyway.”

The movers gave each other doubting looks. 

“Hey, can I get some help here?” Mustang called from somewhere else in the apartment. 

The men in the doorway looked back towards the living room, the slightly taller one shrugged and they left to help the military man out after shooting a glance towards Ed. 

He slapped himself on the forehead once they left. Really, having automail gave him extra strength so moving furniture by himself was no big deal. But it would for a normal teenager, like he was supposed to be pretending to be. He’d have to be more aware of that in the future. 

Just under two hours later there was a knock on his door. Ed looked up from putting away the clothes he found in a couple of bags in the wardrobe – bought by Cloé seeing as they all made him look presentable and were colors he looked good in – to see his CO leaning against the door frame. 

“They’re gone,” Mustang said, not needing to elaborate. 

“This is a pretty nifty place, how long do you think this will last?”

Mustang entered the room and sat on the bed, Ed leaned against the wardrobe at his back. 

“I had to tell my CO that we suspect this to be related to illegal alchemy practices. We’re to take this slow, not attract attention. He guessed six months. Normally under such circumstance some one else in the military would be here with you but seeing as I’ve already been marked,” He trailed off and ran a hand through his hair. 

“I’m still responsible for the work I would have done in Central, so we’ll have a lot of subterfuge going on here because we don’t want to advertise my presence. And potentially yours indirectly.”

“The apartment downstairs?”

The man on the bed nodded. “The higher ups here at East City HQ know who I am and where I am. The rest of the staff though, just thinks I’m a first lieutenant. I’ll be making visits to HQ everyday to pick up paper work meant for me sent via General Scott. I’ll bring it here to work on things, in the office set up downstairs. The rest of the soldiers should just think I’m doing errands for Scott.” 

“Right, good to know,” And with that Ed turned around to continue his sorting. 

Behind him on the bed, Mustang blinked. “You don’t want to know anything else? How information is getting to ECPD, safety measures, all those details? You usually want to know everything.”

Ed hung up a shirt with a sigh and then turned around. “Look, Mustang. I don’t need to know. You usually love keeping stuff from me, why be concerned now?”

“It was for your own good, and a fairly decent amount of this ‘withheld information’ was simply a product of your mind.” Ed’s snort interrupted him for a moment. “I know information is usually withheld in case a solider is captured, but not knowing something in this case might get you into trouble this time around.”

Ed stared at his commander, arms crossed over his chest. “You grew up during a war, I grew up doing this. I know what I need to know and what I don’t. And what I shouldn’t. You’ll just have to trust me on this.” 

They studied each other for a few minutes. Ed could see Mustang saw the reason behind it, knew that Ed had more experience in this department even if he was loath to admit it. 

Trust was a big thing to ask for. They never were on the best of terms; Ed trusted Mustang to use him as a tool, to give him information on the Stone from time to time. But in all regards he was still treated as just a kid, sometimes a smart kid, but still a kid. Asking Mustang to trust that he knew what he was doing, that he had control over the situation, and would not mess things up was a whole different level. Especially since in the past his assignments from Mustang had never gone as planned. But this was different, Ed had been doing undercover work successfully for years now without military supervision, and Mustang just had to get used to the fact. 

And then there was the whole thing where he had to trust Mustang to help keep his cover and pass along the correct information. That the trust was mutual, that Mustang would help him in this investigation and not try to hide things. Ed thought they were getting there. 

Ed turned away first, already knowing that somehow he already had that trust in his CO and just never acknowledged it. All he could do now was let things play out. 

“I’m going to the market for some food. You want anything?”

Mustang raised an eyebrow. “Are you ever full?”

Ed glowered. “You want anything or not?” 

“No, I’m sure you’ll get all we’ll need.”

Ed let a smile ghost over his face before heading out the door.


	10. In which Ed buys fabric

Racer had a network of his own. When Ed walked out of school Tuesday morning, the red head was standing on a corner down the road. How the hell had he found out where ‘Jerry’ went to school? He’d only registered yesterday!

Ed ignored him; he turned and headed in the opposite direction down the street, automail hand in his pocket while the other held onto the single strap of his backpack over his shoulder. He didn’t look at Racer, just pretended the man wasn’t there and staring at his back. 

He made a point of not going ‘home’. Racer had already discovered his school too quickly, leading him to the apartment would be foolish. So instead Ed made his way to the teen center. He hadn’t made plans to meet anyone there, but it was a safe place to go. Ben was there too, he arrived a few minutes prior and was just in the process of spreading books and paper over a table. 

“Jerry! How’s school going?”

Ed shrugged. “It’s school. And my English teacher sucks. We have to read a whole book by Friday.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Ben headed over towards an empty table, Ed behind him. “So,” the other teen began. “Mind helping me with my chemistry homework?”

Ed sighed, but he really didn’t have anything better to do. It shouldn’t be that much different from helping Al out, right?

* * *

Ben, as it turned out, did not have Al’s skills. Teaching him was a mess of wide-eyed stares, the pink shavings of erasures, and hastily made metaphors. But the look on Ben’s face when he finally got a concept was a nice reward. Though Ed wasn’t too sure his patience would last as long with Ala. The part Ishbalan hadn’t shown up, but Ben made it quite clear the boy was the worst off of the three of them. 

Ed winced at the thought and then collapsed onto his bed in the apartment he shared with the bastard. Teaching Al was great, teaching Ben was just okay, but Ala? There had been times today he had to keep his frustrations in check. He let out a soft growl. He wasn’t a very patient person.

“Fullmetal?” Mustang knocked on his open door and then moved to lean against the door frame. “Everything alright?”

“Yes,” he ground out, looking at the ceiling. “Actually, no.” He pushed himself upright, supporting his torso with his arms to look at the colonel. “Racer was at the school today.”

Mustang frowned. “Do you know if he was there for any particular reason?”

“Me.” Ed could feel Mustang’s calculating eye on him, but he ignored it in favor of standing up and brushing off his clothes. He missed his boots, Cloé had forbidden him to wear them, and the few centimeters of difference was really obvious as he brushed by Mustang on his way to the kitchen. 

The bastard followed him, face impassive. “Do you think he knows who you are?”

“Nah,” he opened a cupboard and pulled out a box of pasta. “He’s just curious. I revealed too much on Saturday. Normally I try to pretend I don’t know shit, but for assignments on a deadline, sometimes you have to take a few risks to get what you need in time.”

“But now you’ve shown your hand too early.”

Ed shrugged while filling a pot with water. “Not like I’m in trouble or anything, I’ve just attracted Racer’s attention. Which might be a good thing. You said we were given six months right?”

Mustang nodded, a slight frown on his face. 

“Well, I don’t really want to give him that long to do whatever it is he’s doing. He’s been doing human transmutation for two years already. Well, whoever he’s working for any way.” He turned to lean against the kitchen counter to look at his CO while the water boiled. 

“You know, you usually send me off to look into reports of strange alchemy at work. How in the world did Racer’s group not draw suspicion before now?”

Mustang’s frown increased, but Ed noticed something behind his eyes flicker. The bastard had an idea. He waited for the colonel to share, but he didn’t. He really was a bastard wasn’t he?

“Well?” the blonde asked. 

“Well what, Fullmetal?”

“Are you going to tell me what you’re thinking?”

Mustang’s face shut down, and Ed got the impression the colonel hadn’t realized his face had been that readable. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the raven haired man said. 

Ed ground his teeth. “We haven’t been sharing this apartment for more than a week and I already hate you more.”

Mustang flashed him a smile and left the kitchen.

* * *

Racer wasn’t there on Wednesday and Ed let go of the breath he had been holding since he walked down the school’s front hallway. He had played it as no big deal to Mustang last night, and in the scheme of things it wasn’t, but he had seen little snags develop into mission crippling knots before. 

He spent out the week hanging with Ala, Ben, and Ryan, minimizing the time he spent in the apartment, and come Saturday they had once again visited Racer for a job. Ed made sure to spend the time they spent on the red head’s doorstep behind the other boys. They split up this time; Ala and Ben had been given letters to deliver to people while Ed and Ryan headed to Tom Zeh’s textile shop. 

“So, what do we need again Jerry?” Ryan asked as they down Isis street. 

“A 183 centimeter wide piece of cotton,” Ed shook his head. “I have no idea what anyone would want with that much cloth.”

“To make clothes out of it, dummy,” Ryan bumped his shoulder into Ed’s.

“Does Racer look like the type of guy who knows how to sew?”

“Ehh,”

“Thought so.”

When they walked into the shop, Zeh was helping someone else already. The guy seemed to be having trouble picking out a fabric pattern. “I know she’d like both of them,” he said to the store owner, “but I don’t know which one she’d like more.”

Zeh laughed. “It’s always hard buying for a lady.”

The other man hummed in agreement, and then seemed to notice that Ed and Ryan and entered the shop. “Why don’t you help these lads out while I think?”

“If you insist,” Zeh replied. 

“I do.” The man shifted himself over to the window side of the counter to allow the teens to have space to approach. 

“Ah, you guys,” Zeh smiled at them and Ed couldn’t help but smile back. “Not getting into trouble this week, are you?”

Ed shook his head. 

“Nah,” Ryan answered, just running some errands. “A friend wants these special type of clips. They’ve got stretchy material between them and have something that look like claws on the end.” The brunette clamped his hands in imitation. 

Zeh put on a thoughtful look. “I have something that might work, why don’t you follow me to the back and see if I have what your friend needs. Excuse me,” he directed towards the other patron before disappearing behind a door with Ryan in tow. Ed made his way toward the isle that looked like it had cotton. Before heading down it, he silently clapped his hands and transmuted a small mirror into the end of it from which he could watch the counter. 

The other patron, without even bothering to look around, opened the till and quickly removed four dollars before putting it in his pocket and closing till back up. Ed removed the mirror, and then jogged down the island to pick out a black roll of cotton to bring up to the counter. He took his time approaching the front of the store, making sure to get a good look at the other guy. It made sense the people who actually did the stealing weren’t kids, and so this new person had to be a part of the same organization as Racer. 

He was skinny, limber, but from the subtle way he moved Ed could tell it was all muscle under those clothes. A light athleticism that was similar to his own. Sandy hair, large hands, and about the same height of Rodgers. Ed couldn’t get a good look at his face. Getting around the counter to do so would defiantly raise suspicion. 

Ed took his time getting to the counter, taking slow steps to prolong his scrutiny, but eventually he reached and placed cotton roll down with a thunk. 

“So,” the other guy began in an effort of small talk, “how goes school lad?”

Ed shrugged. “I don’t really like it and don’t like the thought of homework,” he grumbled, doing his best to act like he hadn’t seen the older guy steal from the till. 

Zeh and Ryan reappeared at that moment, the teen holding two of the clasps Racer had specified in his hands. “You boys need this cut too?”

“Yeah, 183 centimeters,” Ryan spoke. 

Zeh turned to the other man first. “Did you decide which pattern to go with?”

“I’ll take the one on the left.”

Ed felt the guys’ eyes on him, but he didn’t turn to look at him. 

He refrained to mention to Mustang that night that it was more than Racer interested in him. It didn’t change matters, and if the bastard thought he should hide something, why couldn’t he?


	11. In which Ed skips school

It was on his way to school that Ed met Racer again. He was walking past an intersection when he heard someone call his name. 

“Jerry.”

Ed slowly turned and found the redheaded adult leaning against the brick of the building. He hadn’t seen him when he walked past and he cursed at himself for it. What should he do, act the nervous teen in a hurry to get to school, or the teen who knew he was being watched? He chose the former. 

“Hey Racer! If you needed an errand run for you, I can stop by after school. I don’t want to be late to class.” He turned to head towards the school, and to his surprise Racer fell into step with him.

“Wouldn’t you want to do something more exciting than school? I know you don’t do much in classes.” 

Ed shrugged. He wasn’t too sure if Racer was guessing about his school habits, or had actually found out about them somehow. 

“And yet,” the adult continued. “You got a hundred on your chemistry test.”

Ed stopped and turned to face Racer, thumbs settling into the straps of his bookbag. He ignored the other school child who almost bumped into him, but did take notice of Rick and Cloé, who he could see walking in his direction from over Racer’s shoulder. “How do you know that? We aren’t supposed to get those back till today.”

Racer gave a sly grin. “I happen to know Miss Talino.”

Ed gave the appearance of nonchalantly brushing it off, but inwardly he tensed. He knew Racer had a network, but this was beyond what he thought possible. Had he always had a contact in the school, or had he made it just to check up on him? Ed wanted to say the Racer was always friendly with the teachers, it would help find which students would be helpful for him, but the alchemist couldn’t be sure. Then again, it could just be his ego talking. Al wasn’t around to pop it.

He turned to once again make his way towards the high school, making his stride a little shorter than before to give Rick the chance to catch up and eavesdrop if he wanted to. Ed expected Racer to either walk with him or leave, not grab his wrist and prevent him from taking another step. The man was too tall and too full to see around without moving; Ed wouldn’t tell if the Rick and his wife were nearby or not.

“Look Jerry, obviously school isn’t very fun for you, but you’re good at it. So how about doing something more interesting? You’re a curious lad.”

“Like what?” Ed crossed his arms, but didn’t look into Racer’s face and glare like he wanted to. ‘Jerry’ was someone with less of fight than he was and had backed down in front of Racer before. It would be off if he didn’t do so again now. So he settled for an intrigued, but wary look. 

“Careful wife,” a man called out and Ed recognized the voice as Rick’s. He didn’t want things to develop to a point where he would need the cop’s help, but knowing his was there made Ed feel better. Racer really caught him off guard.

“Ever tried alchemy?”

“N-no. Though I read a book about it once. It seemed interesting.”

“That’s settled than.” Racer slung an arm over Ed’s shoulder and started leading him away from the high school. They past Rick and Cloé and Ed made sure to only give them a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. He’d be fine, nothing to worry about. Rick gave him a confident wink, but Cloé looked a little worried. But that was typical of her, and it made him feel warm to have someone concerned about his welfare.

* * *

It was half past nine when Roy Mustang’s phone rang. It took two rings before he realized he would have to answer and not his staff. 

“Roy – Ron Matte speaking.”

“Hi Mr. Matte. This is Miss Gryffin from Jerome’s school. I just wanted to let you know he hasn’t shown up for classes.”

Roy froze. Fullmetal had said Racer had shown up at the high school last week. Had something happened, or was the teen just playing hookie? This was Fullmetal, he wouldn’t break cover, and ‘Jerry’ wasn’t someone who would skip classes for fun. It had to be Racer. He tried to keep the worry out of his voice when he answered. 

“Thank you, Miss Gryffin, for letting me know. He’s supposed to be there, and you can be sure that he’ll be punished for his absence. Would you be so kind to call and inform me of when he does show up, if he does?”

“Certainly.”

“Thank you. Have a good day.”

He replaced the phone in the cradle with more force that he had planned, and then quickly searched his desk for the small green notebook with the numbers for all those involved in the case. Roy found it in the deep bottom left drawer and quickly scanned for Justin Chambers’s direct line. The police chief picked up before the first ring finished. 

“East City Police Department, Chief Chambers speaking.”

“It’s Matte,” Roy supplied, not too sure if he be using his cover name or not and figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Is something wrong?” There was the creak of wood as Chambers shifted in his chair.

“I just got a call from Jerry’s school, he didn’t show up this morning.”

“Oh, sorry, we forgot to tell you. We aren’t used to working with anyone outside the office.”

“Forgot to tell me what?”

“Racer met E-Jerry on his way to school and took him somewhere.”

“What?!”

“Relax, one of my men saw the whole thing and he went willingly. There’s no need to worry.”

“This is my subordinate you’re talking about.”

“Who happens to be very good at what he does, or have you forgotten that? He’s worked with us for years and he has that watch for a reason. We know what he can and can’t handle. And being his CO, shouldn’t you too?” There was a click as Chambers hung up. 

Roy stared blankly at the phone for a moment before gently putting it back on the cradle. 

Chambers was right, he should know better than anyone what Fullmetal was capable of. And he had been sending him out on missions for years. So why was this one so different? What happened to that bit of mutual trust he had felt last week?

Surely Fullmetal had been on more dangerous assignments. He’d come back wounded and Al would be full of dents. But something about this deal with Racer tasted sour. It wasn’t a direct fight, it was something sneaky and careful, having passed detection for so long. Fullmetal wasn’t known for being subtle. And then there was the added issue of proximity. 

Roy had never been involved in Fullmetal’s cases before, they had all been just start and end points, and he wondered just how many of the teen’s assignments had been like this – filled with danger that the teen had dimmed down in his reports. If he even realized how risky things were, Roy doubted the teen stopped to think about such things. Now that he was a part of the processes, it was hard to sit on the sidelines and just worry. There was nothing else for him to do, so his paranoia was getting the better of him. Fullmetal could handle this, and he would just have to trust the teen. And he could handle it, the colonel told himself again, so stop worrying. 

Still, when Fullmetal returned to the apartment later than usual, he couldn’t help but release the ball of tension that had been building in his chest all day. 

“Edward?” he called out when he heard the stairs creak. 

The teen paused, but then resumed his trek up the stairs and Roy let out a sigh when he saw Fullmetal’s head. 

“You shouldn’t use my name that loudly, Mustang.”

“Right, sorry.” He sunk into the chair he was sitting in and noticed Fullmetal’s eyes on his dirty dinner plate. “There’s another one for you in the oven.”

The teen’s eyes lit up and he practically sprinted to the kitchen. Roy heard the sound of the oven door opening and closing, hopefully the food was still warm, and shortly thereafter there was a blonde boy across from him scarfing down food. He watched him eat for a bit before clearing his throat.

“I got a call from the school today, something about you not showing up for classes?”

Fullmetal frowned and then swallowed. “They didn’t tell you? Rick was right there when Racer made his offer.”

“No, I called the ECPD about you not being in school and then I found out. What happened exactly?”

The younger alchemist stuffed the last two potatoes in his mouth, then set aside his plate on the table. “He’s got at least one contact in the school, my chemistry teacher Miss Talino. He knew I was doing well without even trying – he’s got a pretty intense information network. Racer was at the school my second day, and I have a feeling other people have been keeping an eye on me. Or at least taking an interest when our paths cross.”

Roy frowned, not liking having to put all the risk on Fullmetal, but the teen didn’t seem that concerned and continued on.

“Anyway, Racer spewed some stuff about me not being challenged enough in school,” Edward rolled his eyes, “ and decided to tutor me in alchemy. Do you have any idea how hard it is to play dumb?”

Roy hid a smirk behind his hand. “I find it easy actually.”

Fullmetal shot him a look. “Well, I don’t. But this proves that Racer and whatever group he’s part of are doing something related to alchemy. I didn’t find any proof that it has to deal with human transmutation. His basement is huge though. He lives in the tiny little shack, but underneath it is this huge open cave. There’s a tunnel leading off from it, but I didn’t get a chance to check it out. That’s one of my goals this week.”

“You’re going back?”

The blonde shrugged. “Well yeah, this in is important for us, and Racer convinced ‘Jerry’ to become his alchemic apprentice. It’s the perfect opportunity to gather more information.”

Roy couldn’t argue with that, and the faster they gathered intelligence, the faster this mission would be over and they could both return to Central. He collected his plate and walked around behind Fullmetal to get to the kitchen, pausing to gather up the teen’s dinnerware too. “Just, be careful okay?”

He got a good look at Fullmetal’s face, scrunched up in confusion, before he turned and set about cleaning up the dinner mess.


	12. In which Ed begins down the path to being a 'bad boy'

Ed came about an unexpected benefit to playing hooky the previous day – he could work on make up work during class which made his lessons just a tad less boring than usual. Really, he was working on more complex chemistry problems when he was 10. Most days, he had trouble staying awake.

The other boys didn't go to his school, but they were all at the teen center when Ed showed up afterward. 

“Where were you yesterday?” Ala asked. “I thought you were gonna help me.”

“Sorry. Would you believe it if I told you Racer convinced me to play hooky so he could teach me alchemy?”

“No.” Ryan said, not bothering to look up from his textbook.

“You did not see his wiz chemistry skills a few days ago,” Ben said. “He like, had more brains than Mr. Alamz. Jerry, you'd be an awesome alchemist.”

“I don't know. Doesn't it take more than just being smart? Otherwise, there'd be more of them.”

“Still,” Ryan put down his pencil. “I can't believe Racer would do that, because there's no way he's an alchemist. If he was, he wouldn't live in that shack.”

“For living in a shack, he certainly pays well.” Ala pointed out. “Maybe he just transmutes money?” The tanned boy dug into his pants pocket to pull out a nickel. He flipped it over several times and then bit it. “Seems real to me.”

Ed wanted to roll his eyes and say yes, it was real. Coins were super intricate and covered in designs so that it would be easy to identify an alchemical counterfeit. An alchemist would have to be amazing at detail work to make coins, and he had never meet anyone with that skill. Well, aside from himself and Teacher. Gold bars were much easier. And also illegal.

Instead, Ed added on to Ala's theory. “Well, if he did transmute it, you wouldn't be able to tell, would you? And if it still helps to by vodka, what's the problem?”

Ben clapped Ed on the back. “I knew it was a good day when we meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ed settled down at the table. He had an English essay due, and he was surprised at how annoying it was. He could do calculations and solve puzzles in his head, but analyze a character? Who wasn't even real? That was more of Winry's thing than his. 

After a few minutes of silence, Ed turned to Ryan. “Hey, that man who was at Zeh's shop the same time as us? Have you seen him before?”

Ryan thought for a moment, then nodded. “Around town a bit. And I've crossed paths with him once or twice in shops. Why?”

“No real reason. I just passed him on the street coming here and was curious.”

“Never mind that,” Ala interrupted. “Jerry, you gotta help me with this algebra stuff. There's an x and a y.”

Ed sighed, and then pulled the teen's paper toward him to start explaining.

##### 

That Friday, Racer had him skipping school again. On the way to his shack, Ed was trying to decide if Jerry should start to develop a bad-boy image, or if he should start to be a little more forceful in insisting he actually go to classes. He'd probably get information sooner with the former. Mustang would have a field day.

“What's with the smile?” Racer asked, breaking into his thoughts.

“Oh, nothing much. I just enjoyed learning alchemy with you before and am looking forward to learning more.”

“It is a fascinating subject, isn't it?”

“The thought that I can create things makes me feel...powerful.”

“Indeed.”

Like before, Racer had Ed pouring through book and drawing alchemical symbols, but never a circle. He seemed to have a similar outlook as Teacher, you had to train the mind first, but Izumi had also believed in an practical understanding of the the rules and Racer seemed determined to drill theory into Ed's head before anything else.

It was worse than school. At least then, he could distract himself by staring at people or pick up on things he hadn't gotten a proper schooling in, like history. With Racer, he had to actually pretend to learn super basic stuff and the temptation to turn the shack into a castle, or at least transmute comfortable furniture in the cave underneath it was strong. He was used to being underestimated, but this was ridiculous! 

He was thankful when Racer placed money in his hand and sent him to a feed store. Once which Ed knew was on Chamber's list of stores being stolen from. And again, the same thief was there. At least, Ed assumed it was the same guy. He had the same sandy hair and skinny build, but at Zeh's store he hadn't gotten a good look at his face. Today, Ed had no problem seeing it as he and the store owner were talking about bits in the window display.

Now that Ed had seen the thief’s face, there was no way he'd forget for the simple fact that it was...well...ugly. Bulging eyeballs, a wide nose, and a small mouth the man's face reminded him of one of Elycia's drawings. For someone who had orchestrated such a smart plan that it took two years of ECPD to catch on, Racer made a stupid choice in selecting a partner who was so identifiable. 

Granted, Ed stuck out as well. Who else in Amestris had gold hair and eyes, plus automail limbs? But his defining characteristics were easy to hide and this guy's were not.

Both men looked up at Ed as he entered the shop. The owner told him to wait and after the skinny man glanced at him quickly he made a comment Ed didn't hear that had the owner walking towards him. Unlike last time, where Racer's partner had obviously scoped him out, Ed was practically ignored today. He didn't know what to make of that.

“Yes?” the owner said and Ed dug into his pocket to pull out the list of items Racer needed. It was quite a lot. As was the wad of cash Racer had put in his hand. 

“I need all of this,” Ed said, handing over the piece of paper. “And if possible, can you deliver it to this stable?” He pointed to the address on the bottom of the paper. It was no where near Racer's shack and was worth checking out the next day.

“Hold on a second, I don't normally have alfalfa in large supplies, let me see how much I have in the back.”

Like at Zeh's shop, the owner disappeared through a door. Ed took a walk around a shelf, and when Ed could see Racer's man again he was stuffing something into his pocket. Four dollars, no doubt. Man, he was quick. Ed was out of sight for maybe thirty seconds. 

Playing the friendly kid, Ed tried to strike up a conversation. “Do you have a horse?” he nodded towards the bit in the man's hand. 

As a response, Ed just got a glare and 'Jerry' took a step back. Ed knew his pushy attitude had no place here. 

The owner came back. “I'll have to order the alfalfa, but I can get it to the stable within the week.”

“That's fine.” Ed paid, sneaking a glance at the order to confirm the stable's address to tell Mustang, and left. 

He headed back to Racer's and told him about the delay in the alfalfa before handing back to the apartment.

##### 

“Feed?” Mustang asked later that night over dinner.

“A lot of it. I can't tell you exactly what livestock it's for, but it's not sheep. We never gave our sheep alfalfa back home.”

“I don't want you checking out the stable tomorrow. I'll do it, or Chambers can send one of his men.”

Ed frowned. He had been looking forward to a change in his pattern of school and hanging with Racer. The stable had been a perfect excuse, but he supposed he could understand Mustang's point of view. If Ed was caught, Racer would want to know why he felt the need to check it out. 

He wasn't used to working with such a large team, or such a long undercover case. The priorities were different. Maintaining his cover was more important now than sneaking around for quick information gathering. 

“Fine, but if you don't go make sure whoever the chief sends knows the signs of transmutation. It'll probably be Rick.”

“You think they created the barn?”

Ed raised an eyebrow at his CO. “And here I thought you were smart. They obviously have alchemic talent, they're bound to use it, be it to create the barn or at least hide a room.”

“Because I'm smart, I wouldn't use alchemy on the stable if I was running this scheme. It's too flashy.”

“Yeah, well, I'm starting to doubt just how clever Racer is.”

“Why?”

Ed pulled out a sketch from his pocket and passed it across the table to Mustang. His drawing skills weren't the best, but it wasn't a bad representation of Racer's thief buddy. It wasn't like he had to make the man pretty. 

“This is...a very distinctive man.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Ed returned to cutting his steak. “I thought they were smart and well organized, but now I'm wondering if they're just patient.”

“Or maybe Racer picked this thief, but didn't do the planning.”

“Someone else is pulling the strings?”

“Could be.”

Great. And here Ed was hoping they could shorten the estimated six months to three because he hated how smug Mustang could be at times. Like now. But if Racer hadn't even mentioned a boss, it was obvious Ed wasn't in that good of graces with him.

“You're gonna get a lot of calls from the school saying I'm late or skipping.”

Mustang's smug face fell. Ed knew his CO hated dealing with calls. It had been a job for his staff in Central, but here he had to not only deal with calls interrupting his paperwork but also suffer the accusations that he was a bad father for letting 'Jerry's' behavior be so bad. 

Ed would be lying if he said he didn't like that aspect of this mission.


	13. In which Ed fails to activate an array

Six weeks. Six weeks of skipping school at least twice a week, though Ed still had perfect grades. Six weeks of 'learning' alchemy from Racer, being praised for his excellent theory and attention to detail, without being allowed to touch a single array. Six weeks of wondering why Racer and his organization would use alchemy to build a stable that only occasionally held a horse, or trying to get to get Racer to open up about potentially following orders. Six weeks of Mustang's strange hovering, which was baffling him to no end, and six weeks of doing his own homework and helping Ben, Ala, and Ryan with theirs as well as drinking with the other teens.

Ed was sick and tired of East City. Since he had joined the military, he had never stayed this long anywhere and Ed was itching to buy a train ticket and skedaddle. Pick up Al and return to their quest.

That might have actually been what upset him the most. He understood that Racer's organization and human transmutation were dangerous, but it wasn't nearly as important as restoring Al. This long delay was making Ed miserable. 

But today, finally there was a break in the routine.

He was under Racer's shack in the cavern. Ed had already had the opportunity to search it a couple times. It was mainly storage areas except for one tunnel he hadn't had the chance to walk to the end of. He had always wondered why the main cavern was so big, easily eight feet tall with the space for a whole platoon. Seeing the transmutation circle drawn on the ground today though answered that question. 

It wasn't for human transmutation, though Ed could see the space being used as such. No, it was for something much more benign. 

“This is your alchemy test.” Racer said, gesturing to the lump of cloth, piping, and metal bits in the center of the circle. “I want you to transmute a horse blanket. They look like this.”

He picked up the bunch of fabric at his feet and flapped it out. 

Ed had seen horse blankets before, Resembool was full of them. But none were as fancy as the one in Racer's hand. Double layered and quilted, it was clasped around a horse with metal and elastic strands rather than fabric ties. 

“I want you to fix the array, if you think it needs it, and then activate it. Remember how the Sage said you do it? You have to feel for the power in the Earth's crust and then direct it towards the array and the circle will do the rest.”

Basic, basic stuff. Ed was so bored with this! And he already knew he wasn't going to activate the array. 'Jerry' was an genius at theory, but unable to actually activate a circle. No use giving his cover more attributes similar to his real self than needed. 

At the very least, he could fix the array. Racer had used a simple circle, but Ed knew having it circle a hexagon would be more effective so he picked up a stick lying around and began drawing one. A touch here to make sure the energy didn't melt the elastic, the part that would result in two layers was gone. If Racer touched the array he'd get a blanket for a giant horse, not an extra warm one.

It took a full five minutes for him to make his corrections, double the time than if Ed didn't have to put on a display of thinking. Racer walked around, making comments and humming, giving Ed the impression that the only problem the red head had been aware of was the part of the array dealing with the second layer. 

“All set?” Racer asked as Ed circled the array for a second time without making adjustments. 

“Yeah.”

“Remember, feel for the power of the Earth.”

He positioned himself so his back was to Racer to allow him to roll his eyes. Feel for the power of the Earth. Alchemists naturally had a connection to it, that's why they could activate an arrays while others couldn't. If he hadn't actually seen Racer activate a small water array, Ed wouldn't have thought Racer was an alchemist based on that statement. As it was, Ed figured the red head was just a really weak one.

In light of that, Ed quickly traced a symbol for power near his knee.

“Right, Earth power.” Making a show of it, Ed took a deep breath and then slammed his hands down on the array.

Nothing happened. 

Ed schooled his face into a disappointed scowl and was surprised to see that Racer's was more intense. He had really wanted 'Jerry' to be able to activate arrays. Curious. Another reason to think that Racer's power was low.

“Oh well, worth a try.” Racer bent down next to him and activated the area. Blue light filled the cavern and Ed could hear Racer's gasp of surprise. The added power had been a good choice.

As they watched, the cloth rose and twisted into a blanket. It hung here, as if on a ghost horse, for half a second before the array went dead and the fabric dropped to the ground. Racer went to pick it up and brushed the dirt off.

“Jerry, even if you can't activate an array, you can draw them like no other.”

“Thanks? But I'd rather activate them.”

“Maybe this one was too big to start with. Let's back track a bit.”

They spent the rest of the day on arrays designed to change the state of a substance; melting and freezing a variety of things from water to a banana. All of it, 'Jerry' couldn't do. By the end of the day, Ed was giving off a resigned air – Jerry wasn't an alchemist and nothing was going to change that – while Racer just continued to be disappointed. Ed hoped this didn't mean he was suddenly back on the streets and running errands with Ben and the others. Sure, he kinda missed them thanks to all the 'lessons' with Racer, but the mission came first and not being asked to come back would hamper that big time.

“Sorry I couldn't activate any of them,” Ed said as they climbed the earth steps to the shack.

“It's not your fault. It obviously takes more than brains to be an alchemist. But like I said before, you create perfect arrays. That's still very useful for those who can activate an array but only create crude circles.”

Ed supposed so. He wasn't doing anything that different than overlooking Al's arrays when they were younger. It's just that he'd never seen a non-alchemist check over the work of an actual alchemist before. It was just a farce now, since Ed could activate any array he wanted, but it was still a first. 

Maybe.

He wouldn't be surprised if Izumi had Sig check things over before she saw the Gate. 

“Come back tomorrow morning Jerry, just before dawn.”

He frowned, not liking the early start, but 'Jerry' wasn't one to question Racer. 

“Kay, see you then.”

Ed headed back to the apartment, but then switched directions to head over to the teen center. Ben, Ala, and Ryan were good boys, people who Ed could see himself hanging out with if circumstances had been different. He had long ago overcame the guilt associated with lying to good people while being undercover and so could fully enjoy the time spent with the other teens.

He could just hear Al in his head saying something along the lines of how happy he was Ed was making friends. 

Ala wasn't at the center, but Ben and Ryan were. Ed passed a few hours playing cards with them and giving into prodding to play a game of basketball that he lost. It was one thing to call him short, it was another to say he couldn't do anything because of that size. 

It was a rough, sweaty game made worse by the Eastern sun, so by the time Ed got back to the apartment all he wanted was a shower, food, and bed. He answered Mustang's questions about the day with noises or single syllables between bites of dinner. The colonel didn't need to necessarily know that Racer had him try to activate a transmutation today, 'Jerry's' alchemy skills were something they had discussed before. 

Only when he was drifting off to sleep did he think to tell Mustang he would be leaving early in the morning. Oh well, he'd leave a note.


	14. In which Ed meets a horse

Ed absently noted the sunrise as he and Racer walked through the streets of East City. He had no idea where the man was taking him, and was solely regretting his choice of not making at least coffee in the morning. An odd combination of oversleeping and not wanting to wake up Mustang. On the surface, Ed was hesitant to say their relationship had changed these past six weeks, but then he went and did things like that. 

At the very least, seeing Mustang in pajamas and padding with barefeet to the shower had made Ed realize there was more to him than the blue uniform and the strict personality he faced off with over a desk. It was slight, but he was beginning to see how while Mustang's actions and answers were at times tailored to annoy Ed, Mustang at his core had Ed's best interests at heart.

Ed supposed, if way back at the beginning he had shared his observations of Mustang's lack of concern at the blade Ed had pointed at Bradly during the practical part of his State Alchemy Exam, that Mustang would not have gone through with his threat of telling the military about how he and Al had violated a taboo of alchemy. 

Mustang, he supposed, was a good guy. At the very least, he could start calling him 'colonel' to his face and not 'bastard'. 

Ed stifled a yawn, earning a snigger from Racer. 

“Drinking with the boys?”

“No, just had a hard game at the teen center. I might have lost three pound just by sweating.”

Racer chuckled. “I bet those long sleeves and gloves you wear all the time too don't help. It's okay to show your burns you know, your friends won't laugh.”

Ed hastily tugged at the ends of his sleeves making sure his automail was completely covered. “It's not them I worry about, it's other people. Where are we going?”

“Just around the corner.”

Around the corner was a small stable, and Ed had no doubt it was the one where he had ordered feed delivered to and that Mustang had checked out earlier. It was small, as far as barns went, and it was only because it was on the edge of town it had a small pasture attached to it. 

Racer led them through a side door and Ed counted four stalls. Judging by the size of the barn, he had expected six, so there was obviously something hidden.

Only one of the stalls was occupied. A large black head, minus a white snip on the nose, stuck it's head out of the nearest stall. Absently, Ed walked up to rub the horse's muzzle. He had never been able to resist an animal welcome, it was the farm boy in him. Ed was mildly pleased to see the horse was wearing the blanket he had designed yesterday.

“This is Seastorm,” Racer said, coming up behind Ed. “And today Jerry is a very important day for both him and us.”

“Why?”

“You'll see.” Racer took off the blanket, and then clipped a a lead line on the stallion's halter. He lead the horse to the back of the stable, Ed following after shutting the stall, and activated a small array on the wall. It was instantly obvious what Racer had been hiding – a ramp leading to what Ed assumed would be another underground cavern. He wouldn't be surprised if the one tunnel he'd never fully explored at Racer's shack led here.

Seastorm amicably walked beside Racer down the ramp, ears pricked forward. Ed couldn't help but stare at the horse. The horses in Resembool had been work animals, stocky and often with dusty coats. This stallion though had breeding, his coat glowed and the muscles under his skin were graceful. Seastorm was a sport horse, be it a flat track, jumps, or the newly introduced steeplechase. 

As the cavern came into view, Ed could see a large transmutation circle on the ground drawn in paint. There were dark splotches in various locations, blood Ed guessed, that Racer had hid the scent of otherwise Seastorm would be acting up.

Racer led the stallion to a wall and tied the lead line to a hook embedded into it. Ed went to look at the transmutation circle. A large double circle, with a pentagon inside and symbols at each connection point. It was no doubt similar to the transmutation circle he and Al had used to bring back their mother, but a closer examination revealed it to be a little off. For one, there were no symbols for the soul. And the elements it spoke about were off in their proportions. This wasn't for creating life, like most human transmutation circles or even those Tucker had made for chimeras, this was for altering life. And not human life, something larger like...a horse.

Ed snapped his eyes towards Seastorm. Racer was stoking the stallion's neck, eyes on Ed. 

“I knew you were smart Jerry. You know what that's for?”

“Not exactly,” though given more time he could figure it out. There was something strange about the alchemy that made him frown. “I know it's for horses, and you want to alter them somehow, but I'm not sure how.”

“A couple of ways.” Racer left Seastorm to walk over to the array. “One, we want them to be more powerful. Two, faster. And three, have more endurance. We started trying to create a horse from scratch first, but it didn't go as well.” He gestured to the old blood stains. 

Yeah, Ed did not see those experiments ending happy. 

In a different direction, Ed noted the use of the word 'we', and Ed had a sneaking feeling he wasn't just talking about the sandy haired, ugly thief. He wanted to press for that information, as well as why did Racer want better horses, but that was for a later time. 

“You want me to check out the array.” 

“Yes.”

Ed circled it a couple of times, pushing back the memories of what he had done when he was eleven, and allowed his mind to analyze all the information in it. He knew his theory on human transmutation was correct, despite the mess of his mom it had translated into. What he had come up with was backed up by Truth. No, something else had stopped that particular transmutation from working but he didn't think that limitation would come into play here with Seastorm. Racer and the array weren't trying to create life, just alter it, and in nowhere near the adjustments chimera researchers went into.

No, comparatively, what Racer wanted was a lot less advanced. But maybe just as complex. You had to be precise, very precise, to get the results you wanted. It would be very easy to plan for a larger, sturdier heart only to have the heart unaffected at all and have the benefits go to the kidney. Or for the heart to explode. 

But it if worked, what was to stop the process from moving on to humans in a form of medical alchemy? He had heard tales, legends really, of a different type of alchemy in the east that was used for healing. Could this array at his feet be the first step in Amestris towards medical alchemy? Towards cures and maybe a way of regrowing his limbs? Could they use this to get around the need for a Philosopher’s Stone?

“It good then?” Racer's voice interrupted his thoughts. “All our trial and error was all we needed?”

“Ah, no. Do you have notes or something on horses I could look over real quick? About what physical characteristics of a horse lead to the traits you're looking for? Optimal size of the horse, muscle to fat ratio, that type of thing?”

Racer gestured to a small pile of notebooks near the ramp Ed had overlooked. He scurried over to them and quickly dived into the research. It was well organized, and not in code, so he had all he needed in a matter of minutes. He immediately started on making adjustments to the array.

Pity it was in paint. He couldn't change it the way he wanted to without using alchemy, so he took the brush and paint he found and made a new array a meter away. It took almost a full hour, getting all the details right. Ed still wasn't completely satisfied with it, he couldn't be exact in the adjustments it would make to Seastorm because he didn't have an analysis of the stallion. If he didn't have to pretend to be 'Jerry', Ed could had alchemically analyzed the horse himself in a heartbeat. As it was, he had just boosted that part of the painted array and then linked it to the part actually in control of the transmutation so that it focused heavily on the results.

Essentially, he was telling the array not to make Seastorm's muscles bigger by so much but rather telling it he wanted the percentage of muscle to bone and fat to be a certain amount. He had never tried a similar element in an array before, had never even seen one. It essentially gave the array a small amount of intelligence, the ability to make adjustments to a subject based on continuous analysis of the transmutation. If it worked, he would totally be writing about it for his assessment this year. If it didn't, Ed didn't want to think about what would happen to Seastorm.

Ed backed up, wiping his forehead with the back of a hand holding the brush, just as Racer made his way over while looking at his pocket watch. Ed hadn't realized they were on a time limit, but they must be with how intently the red head was looking at it before slipping it back in his pocket.

“Done?”

“I...yeah.”

As happy as Ed was that Racer's organization wasn't involved in human transmutation, and as excited he was about the theories and possibilities running through his head at the moment, he was hesitant about witnessing an animal being transmuted. Ed didn't except it to happen quickly or quietly and he set about steeling himself for the sight as Racer led Seastorm over. 

His path was a hard one, and he knew he was just getting started. There was also the threat of being asked to kill, of being a human weapon looming over him. There was worse to come than transmuting a horse, he was sure of it, he would have to learn how to deal with such things.

Ed tried to force himself to watch as Racer slipped off the halter and walked to the edge of the circle to put his hands on it. He managed to keep his eyes on the stallion as the array started up, but as the light turned red and Seastorm released a shrill scream Ed had to turn his head away. He stared at Racer instead, the man hunched over and sweating with the effort of keeping the array going. Ed had forgotten to think of what the assessment part of the array would do to a weak alchemist because the extra power would have been easy for him to draw from the Earth. Racer, who had a hard time feeling the Earth's crust to begin with for much simpler arrays, was obviously struggling to find the power. But he did it, collapsing with exhaustion as the light disappeared. 

Ignoring the spent man, Ed looked towards the array's center. With all the screaming Seastorm had done, he expected the horse to look mutated and mangled. But he looked whole, and Ed couldn't detect any notable changes as the stallion lay still on his side. He was breathing, but from where he was standing Ed couldn't tell if they were last breaths or not. 

Casting another look at Racer who was gasping for air, Ed edged around the circle until he was looking into Seastorm's eyes.

“Is he?” Racer asked.

“He's okay, I think.” Ed was surprised, he had wholly expected the horse to be on the last legs of his life. But his eyes were clear and free from pain. With a snort, the stallion rolled onto his back to scratch an itch before getting to his feet. He trotted over to Racer, the man now on his feet.

“He's perfectly sound.” Racer said, having seen the horse move. Still, the red head ran a hand down each leg and picked up each hoof to inspect it. He looked into the stallion's nose and mouth, checked out his ears, and ran hands over his coat. “Did it even work? He doesn't look different.”

“No, he does.” Ed had great visual memory, not exact of course, but good enough to remember notes and where on the shelf a book was that he read years ago. “He's maybe half a hand taller. And...here, let me lead him for a bit. He's got more definition now.“

Ed slipped the halter back on the horse and ran from one edge of the cavern to the other, Seastorm at a trot beside him. He was totally acing his assessment this year. 

Racer was mesmerized watching the horse, then with a start he looked at his watch. If he had been worried about time before, it was almost panic now. “We gotta go. Stan will be here any minute and Seastorm isn't nearly ready yet.”

In a rush, they returned to the stable. Stan apparently was the thief Ed had bumped into several times. He was also the trailer driver. 

Ed couldn't help but stare. He knew horses were transported by rail car, or led from one place to another, but in a motorized car? Ed circled the vehicle. It was as big as one of the new refrigerator cars, but the back was empty aside from two buckets, a hook, and a pitchfork leaning against the a wall. There was straw on the bottom. The trailer served as a portable stall, while the truck in front pulled it like a tractor bringing goods to market. Winry would have love to take it apart.

“What took so long? I already loaded his tack. And Stormy's all dusty! We don't have time to groom him if we want to get to the race in time.”

“Relax Stan, it worked! Jerry changed most of the array, that's what took so long, but look at him! Fit as a fiddle! The array worked!”

Stan snorted. “We'll know if worked if he wins! Hurry up and load him. We'll have to give him a quick brush off when we get there.”

“I can groom him while you drive,” Ed offered. “There should be space for me and him in the back.”

“You know how to groom a horse?” Stan asked. 

“I may live with my uncle in East City now, but I grew up on a farm with my parents.” Ed crossed his arms. Even if he hadn't been familiar with horses, grooming wasn't that hard. Brush, hair, get the dirt off. Simple. It also gave him time to subtly use alchemy to check out Seastorm's health. Maybe give his coat a protein shine. If Ed's work was being shown off in any capacity, it had to look good. 

“Let him,” Racer said, leading Seastorm into the trailer and clipping his halter to the ring at the back. The stallion was calm, so this obviously wasn't the first time he'd been in it. 

Stan frowned, but didn't protest as Ed ran to collect grooming supplies. He slipped into the trailer, a hand on Seastorm's rump to let the horse know he was there, and the trailer doors closed behind him. A few minutes later, the engine started and the truck rolled out of the stable yard.


	15. Chapter 15

They had been driving for over an hour when Ed finally felt the trailer slow down. Seastorm was antsy, shifting from side to side with his ears twitching to and fro. When the back doors finally opened and Ed led the stallion out, he blinked into the sun.

It had to be noon, judging by the sun's position and Ed's grumbling stomach. He was regretting the fact he hadn't brought pocket change with him to get a snack. Maybe he could convince Racer to get him something. 

“Look at that! Seastorm is practically glowing! You're a fine groom.” Racer said, leading the way towards a stable complex. 

“Thanks.”

Stan walked along aside them, tack in his hands and silks on top. So he also served as a rider. 

They walked into the barn and Racer indicated for Ed to stop in between a set of cross ties. Stan took off, muttering something about changing and weighing, and left Racer to tack up Seastorm while Ed stroked his forehead. 

Once Seastorm's hooves were cleaned, the bit in his mouth, and the nose band snug, Racer led him by the reins out of the barn. Ed walked alongside him, taking in the sights of the stable.

There were a lot of horses here, some lazily munching hay and other also being prepared for racing. Judging by the size, he figured they were at the Wright Track. It was named after one of the famous business owners in East City's history and also the only track Ed had heard of in the area. This had to be Wright. Because it if wasn't, he was so lost. 

Racer led the way strongly, he had obviously been here before and Ed wondered how many other horses he had transmuted and brought here. 

It seemed like a really risky scheme, improving horses to win races and making money by betting on them. Seastorm, Ed would bet, was the best chance of winning Racer and Stan had. They had to be losing money, buying supplies for transmutations, buying horses and caring for them, placing bets and having horses either die in the cave, on the track or not place. His supposed the long term benefits must be really good. Ed wasn't sure, he knew very little about gambling.

They stopped at the edge of a wide space filled with horses and jockeys warming up. Stan came up shortly, saddle in his arm.

“Weigh in go well?” Racer asked and Stan nodded. 

“Not that I really needed it. He's not carrying extra weight, this being his first race.

Racer laid the saddle blanket on Seastorm's back, placed the saddle on top, and tightened the girth. Stan made sure it was snug and then swung into the saddle with Racer's help. He gave a small cluck and Seastorm moved into a smooth trot, Racer and Ed backing away to let Stan ride. 

“I know I don't have to say this, but I will anyway. Jerry, you don't say anything about we did this morning.”

“No worries. I don't think most of the people here would believe it anyway.”

“You'd be surprised. Racing is full of superstitious people and people who would do anything to give their mounts an advantage.”

Ed nodded. “So...what exactly is Seastorm competing in?” 

“Steeplechase, that new sport from the south that's been creeping into the country. It's doing pretty well, and horses who ran the flat as youngesters can do this when they're older. But if you ask me, steeplechase requires more of a horse. Come on, let's go see the track. Seastorm's in the sixth race of the day, and the fifth should be starting soon. You can gain an understanding of it before he runs.”

Wright Track had two tracks, a flat one that Racer pointed out while they passed it, and the steeplechase one. They were the same size, though today the later was surrounded by a crowd. As they approached, Ed heard the sound of a gun going off and then a cheer rose up as the horses took off. Hastily, Racer pushed his way to the front of the crowd, pulling Ed behind him and getting them both spots near the fence. 

There were jumps set up on the course that the horses raced over. They had gotten to the fence too late to see the horses jump over them the first time, but Racer assured him that this race was long and so they'd have to jump the two fences they could see twice more before the race finished. 

It wasn't longer before the horses came thundering towards the jumps, a large dapple gray in the lead with a short bay a length behind him. They cleared the jumps beautifully, muscles poised and knees high. The rest of the pack passed by in a blur and Ed let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. 

“They're beautiful animals, aren't they?” Racer said. 

“Yeah.” Ed had seen only one high bred horse before now, and it had been handsome with its delicate head and long stride. But seeing these horses run, Ed could see not just the looks but the power horses had. Strong, sleek muscles that could propel themselves and riders over jumps two meters high, looking calm while doing it.

The pack came back. The bay was in the lead now, a chestnut had moved into second, and the gray was back in third. Unlike before, where there had been a bit of space between the leaders and the rest of the horses, the rest of the field was close behind. 

As Ed watched, two horses jumped side by side, jockeys all but disappeared in the whipping manes. When they landed, they crashed into each other. Both horses went down. One of the jockeys was thrown forward over his ride's head. The other was still in the saddle, leg pinned beneath his horse. 

Ed cringed as the last two horses came at them. The first managed to take the jump on the end, missing the fallen horse. The second scattered landed near the thrown jockey and Ed couldn't tell if he had been stepped on or not.

The entire crowd had sucked in air when the two horses went down, but released it as the thrown jockey and his mount headed towards the gate seemingly unharmed. The other horse wasn't as lucky. It couldn't get up, and his jockey still had his right leg pinned beneath its side. 

“How often does this happen?” Ed asked as a vet determined that the horse had a broken leg and then shot it in the head. The jockey was a lot better off, not even a sprained ankle. 

“Hmnm, falls aren't that uncommon. You can expect one every five races or so. But they're not usually as severe as this is. A broken leg, maybe one or two a season.”

Despite knowing Stan was a criminal breaking several laws, Ed hoped he had a clean ride.

“Come on,” Racer tugged on Ed's flesh arm. “Let's see if we can get a seat in the bleachers so we can see the whole field for the next race.”

It took awhile for the next race to start, they had to haul away the dead horse's body, but when the horses lined up on the starting line Ed took the time to examine the competition. There were three black horses in the field, and Ed only reconsigned Seastorm due to the silks Stan had changed into – blue and gold. There was a huge palamino that had a temper, he kept snapping at the horse next to him, and a pinto horse that seemed to be half asleep. Ed suspected though the horse was better than he looked, why else race him?

Finally, all the horses were lined up and the gun went off. 

Seastorm bolted forward, the pinto horse close on his heels. Ed had never seen Seastorm compete or even run before, so he had no idea if the array had affected his performance. Racer though was muttering under his breath. “Look at him move, he could win lots of purses.”

Unlike the dapple gray in the previous race, Seastrom held the lead for the entire two laps of the track. He won by half a length. With a whoop, Racer punched a fist in the air and then turned to pull Ed into a hug. 

“You Jerry, are a genius. Come on, we gotta get down to the winner's circle.”

When they got the the center of the track, Ed held back. There were cameramen taking pictures of Stan on Seastorm, and then pictures with Racer as the owner. People were asking questions. Seastorm had been a dark horse, no one had even heard of him before now. Reporters wanted to know everything they could. 

He wanted to avoid the spotlight as much as possible. In a blank and white picture, he looked like Edward Elric and not Jerry Matte.

“Teamwork,” Racer was telling the reporters. “Stan rides and works him, I own and train him, and Jerry over there,” he pointed out Ed hanging at the edge of the crowd. “he's my assistant trainer and groom. We're small team, but we work well together.”

The reporters and cameramen pushed Ed forward to take a picture of all three of them, Stan still astride Seastorm. The blonde man finally gave Ed a smile as he was forced to stand at his knees. 

“You did a great job, Jerry. From here on out, its smooth riding.”

From here on out, they were busted. Ed had everything he needed to turn this case over to the Intelligence Branch. The plot, the location, the names. This time next week, Stan and Racer would be behind bars. 

After a few pictures, Stan slid off to go do a post race weigh and Ed took Seastorm's reins to walk him back towards the trailer. Racer walked along side Ed, talking about how big of a success this was, how easy life would be now, how it was amazing that Seastorm wasn't as winded as the second place winner at all! The stallion was the perfect horse, and he would be the first of many. 

By the time Stan returned, Seastorm had cooled down and Ed was grooming him as he was tied to a hook outside the trailer. The jockey had changed and carried something in addition to his riding outfit and saddle – a small bag. As Ed watched, Racer peaked into it and grinned. 

“That's enough money for several nice dinners.”

“You're telling me. I think the money we got from the broker is more than the purse, which we'll be getting later apparently. They said something about paperwork and talking to the bank.”

“Any word from Clinton?”

Stan shook his head no.

Clinton, Clinton, why was that name so familiar? Ed couldn't recall reading the name, so it could be related to his research. He must have heard the name before, but where? And why?

His thoughts were interrupted by Stan coming over to talk to him. “You really pulled your weight today Jerry. Seastorm was amazing to ride.”

“Personally, I'm more impressed with his recovery.” Ed had checked everything he could think of, legs, skin, organs, and found nothing wrong. There had been a niggling thought that the array had done something to the horse that would only be noticeable in a high stress environment like racing. 

“Really, I'm surprised you guys got as far as you did with that array, it was all wrong.”

“Yeah well, we had outside help. Now load up Stormy, no reason for us to stick around longer.” Stan had been warming up to Ed, and now he had to go and make him all cold again. Apparently alchemy was a touchy subject.

With a sigh, Ed ran the soft brush one more time over the stallion's back and then led him into the trailer. As he took the first steps on the ramp, he saw a boy run up to Racer and give him an envelope. By the time Ed had clipped Seastorm in place and made sure he could reach the water bucket, the messenger had disappeared and there was no sign of the note he brought. 

Ed went to pick up the brushes. “We going soon?”

“Right away,” Racer answered, tugging up his pants a bit. “Do you mind riding with Seastorm again? There's only three seats in front and the saddle takes up one.”

Ed nodded, “No problem.” He actually wanted to ride with the others, start a conversation or two, but it wasn't like he was willing to sit on Stan's lap and there was no place for the saddle in the portable stall. 

With a nod, Racer locked Ed in the back and made his way to the driver's seat. 

Ed spent the hour back to East City mentally preparing his report to Mustang and so was thrown for a loop when the doors opened not to the stable in East City, but a fancy restaurant is a small town he didn't recognize. 

“Why stop here and not wait to eat till we are back in East City?” Ed asked as he stretched, Stan closing the trailer door behind him. 

“We're not going to East City,” Stan said, walking over to join Racer at the restaurant's doors. 

In a panic, Ed took a look at the horizon all around him. The area around East City was pretty flat, you could see the city from miles away, but here there were hills that served to both block long views and identify a different region of the country. He was roughly two hours from the city and who knew how further the drive was to where they were going. It couldn't have been close, otherwise why not eat at their destination?

Ed looked at his watch. Four o'clock. Not quite dinner time, but he was still starving after no breakfast and a quick lunch that was more like a snack. Give it an hour, and Mustang would start to expect him and then start to worry when he didn't show.

Actually....Ed's mind flickered through the events of the morning. Being quite to not wake Mustang, to the point where he forwent coffee, rushing to dress and make it out the door without hitting the creaky step. He had meant to leave a note, had he?

No, Ed realized with sinking dread. He had forgotten it in his rush of over sleeping. Mustang no doubt was already alarmed. Ed, gone, with no one knowing where. And to make matters worse, he had a feeling he wouldn't be back at the apartment tonight. 

Ed felt a guilty twinge in his stomach for all the stress he was putting not only his CO through, but no doubt his friends at ECPD as well. Chambers and Mustang would yell at him when he returned. 

“Jerry! You hungry or not?” Racer called, holding the door open.

Ed jogged towards him, brushing Mustang off his mind. This was a first, worrying about the bastard while he was here out in the field. He had to concentrate on himself. Ed had no back up, no Rodgers in his ears, nearby military post, or Al clunking a few steps behind him.

Suddenly, Ed felt nervous but he shrugged it aside as he stepped through the open door. Worse came to worse, he'd blow his cover. He could take Racer and Stan, no problem. He was Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist.

He could handle anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those wondering what's going on with my RotG fics, I'm sorry! This one is all pre-written and being transferred, the RotG ones aren't. And having had two huge moves within 5 weeks (across the ocean, and then across the country) life has been crazy, hectic, and class readings take more priority than writing. Except tonight ^_^ Hopefully I can write and edit a chapter this weekend.


	16. In which Roy is the main character

It was only on his return from the bathroom, after a morning shower, that Roy realized what had niggled at his senses when he shuffled out of his bedroom. Fullmetal's room was open, and the teen wasn't in the living room/dining area, the only other place he could be.

Strange.

He glanced at his watch. Seven o'clock. Roy's normal morning hour but not Fullmetal's. Especially on a Saturday when he refused to even roll over and contemplate getting up before nine. Maybe he just slept with the door open. 

But no, Roy saw as he stuck his head into the room. The bed was rumpled and unmade in a typical teen fashion and clothes were strewn about the room. Fullmetal though, was not in the room.

Frowning, he made his way to the kitchen counter. No evidence of a breakfast, which was rare. If it were anyone else, he'd say that his roommate hadn't the time for it. But this was Edward Elric. He never missed a meal, and why would he be in a rush to go anywhere this early.

Roy turned, seeing a pad of paper and a pencil on the table, but the paper was blank. So Fullmetal had thought to leave a note and then forget. He probably was doing something for Racer, there was no other explanation. A dawn meeting was rare, but Roy took that as meaning the task was time sensitive and therefore quick. Come brunch time, there'd be a blonde teen stomping up the stairs demanding food.

It was unlikely he'd be asked to stay for an 'alchemy lesson', as Fullmetal had told him Racer now knew 'Jerry' had no talent in that area. 

Halfway from boredom and halfway from anticipating Edward's needs, Roy set about cooking a large meal for when the teen came back. He had heard Alphonse complaining about time to time about Fullmetal's eating and sleeping habits, but seeing them up close Roy didn't find them as annoying as the younger Elric obviously did.

No, Fullmetal sleepy eyed at the table and drinking juice from the carton simply reminded Roy of when he was Edward's age. And that was dangerous thinking. 

In this situation, where he and Edward were living together, Roy had realize just how often he thought of the blonde alchemist by his title. All his other subordinates he thought of by name, but with Edward it was always Fullmetal. A heavy sounding name, the brat had called it once, and after seeing the young, teenage side of Edward the past month and a half Roy realized he had been deliberately using that heavy name in his mind to match the alchemist to that persona.

Edward was the army's youngest member, and if he thought about that too much Roy could fell guilt creep into his mind. The military and it's benefits might have ignited Fullmetal's drive, but it also put him into great danger and thrust him into a world he was too young to know how to fully navigate. Calling the alchemist Fullmetal had been Roy's way of dismissing the blonde's young age, an effort to ease Roy's conscience and give Edward the 'non-kiddie' treatment he wanted. 

However, faced with that youngness of Fullmetal everyday, Roy could now longer deny what he had been doing – viewing only part of the teen through a lens that only benefited him. Fullmetal was also Edward Elric, a boy doing remarkably well in an intense situation and it was about time he saw more than a solider following a far off dream. Edward was also a child who had no one to take care of him properly.

Roy was in no position to step up as a father, but he could at least make a large meal and see the teen ate well. If he ever showed up. 

One o'clock. Late enough where Roy was getting worried. This was a long short assignment from Racer and something rubbed Roy the wrong way. He might be new at these types of missions, but he had learned in Ishbal to not overlook the feeling of unease.

Two o'clock.

Roy picked up the phone to call the police station. 

“Sergeant Monroe here, how can I help you?”

“This is Ron Matte, is Chief Chambers there?”

Roy could feel Monroe snap to attention. “No, he's not. But I'm sure I could help.”

Roy didn't know if he should use some type of code or not. He used one all the time with the men in his office, but he doubted the police would pick up on the same things. Still, what had Edward said about undercover missions? Keeping cover was a top priority.

“It's my nephew, Jerry, I haven't seen him since dinner last night.”

“Any idea on where he went?” Good, no comments about how people had to be missing for two days before police could get involved. They were one the same page here. If Roy knew working with local police was so easy, he would have taken joint cases earlier. 

“I think he went to run an errand early this morning, but he never mentioned anything to me and if that was the case he should have been back hours ago.”

“I'll make some calls. In the mean time, why don't you calm your nerves with a cup of coffee? The place on Iris street also has delicious cakes.”

“I'll do that. Thank you for your time.”

Roy hung up then quickly slipped into his coat. He remembered two cafes on Iris street, and did not know which one was known for it's cakes. Unfamiliar with the faces of the East City Police Department, his best option was to get there first, sit in a visible spot, and allow them to come to him. 

It was at times like these he cursed his cover for not having a rank deserving of a personal car. Iris street was in the center of town, he flagged down a horse and cart and had it take him there.

Both cafes had coffee and both had cake, though the one with the blue awning had a bigger selection. He went there and sat outside, feigning interest in a newspaper he had bought and picking at a piece of chocolate cake. It wasn't long before someone sat down across from him. 

The guest was familiar, with tousled brown hair and a long face. Roy knew he was police by the way he greeted him with a 'Heya Ron!'

They shared greetings and small talk for a while, a bit louder than normal, and by the time young blonde woman joined them they were no longer being paid attention too. At the arrival of the blonde, the officer stood up to peck her cheek and pull out a chair for her. Roy noticed the matching rings on their hands, this had to be Cloé and Rick.

Cloé lost no time. “I checked the safe house, and put up the lost kitten poster. Ed wasn't there, but if he sees the poster hopefully he'll head there.”

Rick turned to Roy. “You sure something has happened to him?”

“Not entirely. I'm positive something has happened, but I'm fairly confident he's alright. However, he has a tendency to get in over his head and then make a mess of things.”

Rick, to Roy's surprise, chuckled with understanding. “What I wouldn't give for the warning system you seem to have for the kid. It could have saved us a couple of times. Remember that one where he had to work at a cafe where all the waitresses wore maid outfits?”

Roy really needed to learn more about Edward's previous cases with the ECPD.

“I wish I could predict what type of trouble he's gotten into.” Roy took a sip of his latte. “I have to admit, being this close to one of his cases has got me really wound up. I'm used to assigning them and reading the reports afterwords. None of this waiting.”

Cloé nodded. “I felt the same way when he did his first case with Rick. But I know he can handle himself, he's done it many times. We just have to trust him.”

Roy had faith in Fullmetal's abilities, he really did, but not in his ability to get things done quietly or sensibly. And with an organization like Racer's, of which still little was known, both types of endings would most likely be needed. 

“Come on,” Rick said standing. “Let go buy some drinks and head to your place. I'll get Chambers to bring over our photo file, it'll help the time pass. That way, we can wait for him to come home and you'll hear news as we do.”

Such friendly, thoughtful people. No wonder Edward liked them all. 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

* * *

It was several hours past dark and Edward hadn't come back. There was no phone call. Racer's stable had been visited, it was empty, as had his shack, also empty.

Racer was not in East City and neither was Edward.

* * *

Rick and Cloé had gone home shortly after dinner, leaving Roy alone in the apartment and staring at the top of the stairs praying for a blonde head to appear. He had fallen asleep on the couch, a fact he was only aware of because he fell off of it the next morning due to a pounding on the door.

“Ed?” he called out, skipping steps to through open the door.

It wasn't Edward. Instead, it was Monroe and he was holding up a copy of Sunday's sport page. The front page had a picture of a horse. 

“It's Ed,” Monroe confirmed, pointing to one of the people standing beside the horse.

Roy snagged the paper out of the sergeant’s hand to examine the picture himself. Black and white, Edward's distinctive coloring couldn't identify him but Roy knew those determined eyes and stubborn chin anywhere. Next to him, with a hand on his should was Racer and the jockey on the horse could only be the thief Fullmetal had drawn for him a bit ago. The caption didn't say much, just that Seastorm, the horse Roy assumed, had been a dark horse winner at a race yesterday. 

Quickly, Roy set about reading the article accompanying the photo. It was a brief overview of the race, the other horses and a summary of Seastorm's win which was impressive. And there, at the bottom, was a quote from a Fredrick Kirsh, listed as the stallion's owner. “Seastorm won due to the great teamwork of myself, jockey Stan, and our brilliant groom Jerry.”

Fredrick Kirsh could only be Racer's real name.

Roy felt a partial wave of relief. Yesterday afternoon, Edward had been fine. But what had happened after that race and overnight were a complete mystery. Eyes hard, he looked up from the paper to look at Monroe.

“Chief's already on it. We know Racer's real name, and the name of his partner. He wants me to drive to the track, I figured you'd want to come too.”

“Yes, I do.”


	17. In which Ed is on a farm

Ed woke early the next morning hoping to use the time to find the phone. Wherever Stan had driven them too yesterday, they had arrived late. All Ed had been able to make out by the moonlight and outside lights of the buildings was that it was a farm of some type with several buildings and pastures. Racer had gone off to talk to someone, leaving Stan and Ed to stall Seastorm and then let themselves into a small room with two bunk beds in the house. Racer was already there when they arrived, and the red head's instance of sleep, as well as Ed's own travel headache, had him climb into the top bunk above Stan instead of sneaking out explore the place. 

Now though, Racer and Stan were still sleeping and it was the perfect time to look around. Slipping out the door, Ed noticed he was in a large open space with a table in the center. It was set with six places, though none of them were occupied. On either side of the door he had just walked out of were more doors. The doors were opened, one showing another bunk room that looked slept in and empty, the other a kitchen were a woman was making breakfast. 

Right. Farm time. Early to bed, early to raise. He had forgotten that. So much for checking out the property unnoticed. 

There was a phone on the wall near the door to outside. He might not know a lot about where he was, but he knew at bit. About a day outside of East City, a mid sized farm, and...he walked over to the window near the phone to check the sun, to the west of the city.

“Oh! Good morning! I didn't expect you.”

Ed spun around, hands up, but quickly lowered them when he saw it was just the cook. Walking to the phone had put him in her line of sight. Dang it, he wouldn't be able to call Mustang if he was observed. 

“Sorry ma'am.”

“Come in with Racer and Stan, did you?”

“Yes, I'm their new, uh, groom.”

“Well, sit yourself down. Breakfast isn't ready, give it about twenty minutes, but I can give you a biscuit and butter.”

Ed was on his third biscuit when the door to outside opened. In stomped four men and judging by their clothes they were farmhands. They only briefly glanced at Ed as they sat down.

The cook came out the kitchen at that exact moment, arms full of food. She greeted the men as she laid down a sizzling skillet of ham slices and a heaping plate of scrambled eggs. Ed's mouth watered, but Jerry was, he had to admit, more deferring to authority and polite so he let the farmhands serve themselves before opening up a biscuit and forking ham slices on to it.

“Who you?” A man asked around a bite.

“Jerry, I'm Racer and Stan's groom.”

“Thought that new horse was one of theirs.”

The men introduced themselves and just before Ed could ask about the farm, find out just where it was, the door to the second bunk room opened and out stepped Racer and Stan. While both were dressed, Stan's hair was flat on one side and spiky on the other. Ed wasn't the only who chuckled.

The jockey dismissed the laughter and set about eating. Ed got up and offered his seat to Racer. He wasn't full, but he wasn't hungry either and they were short a chair. Plus, perhaps he could explore the farm a bit more now that it was dawn.

“I'm gonna check on Seastorm,” he called out as he opened the door. Racer didn't even acknowledge his departure. 

Ed quickly made his way towards the other buildings. There were three stables parallel to each other, all of them at least halfway full. Seastorm was in the first one closet to the the house and Ed did give him a quick check up. Still no ill effects from the array, only a laziness he associated with running the race the previous day. If Ed didn't know better, he'd say the array hadn't worked and the stallion was naturally just that good of a steeplechaser. 

But it had worked.

He had transmuted an animal.

Ed's hands paused in running over Seastorm's side. He had transmuted an animal, but he had also transmuted a human. He'd done worse than this, and if he had to transmute a thousand horses to perfect this new type of alchemy to find a way to get them back to normal, he'd do it. A back up if they never found the Stone.

“You're a good horse,” Ed said, patting the stallion's side before slipping out to explore the rest of the grounds. There were pastures that stretched into the distance and a couple of arenas. There were also two barns, one which was full of feed, the other which held nothing. It was just a big empty space, aside from the few odd and ends on the half second level. 

It reminded him of the cave and Ed suddenly remembered things Racer and Stan had said. About Seastorm being a trial run and the benefits of the array working. It wasn't a big stretch to conclude that the other twenty some horses on this farm would be transmuted as well. 

For the sake of the horses, it was a good thing he remembered the array because he didn't think Racer had copied it down. 

Done with his exploring, Ed made his way back to the house, thinking of way to empty it so he could use the phone. As he got closer, he noticed a military vehicle coming down the drive and he cursed Mustang. Sure, he was probably looking for him by now, but if he had found the farm he should stay away. He didn't need help, and this wasn't a place to arrest Racer and Stan for their operation. Too many variables. Not that Ed was so sure what the charges would be now, they were obviously thieves but the suspected bomb and human transmutation were wrong. Mustang sticking his nose in this place so soon didn't bode well at all. 

He jogged at an angle to the road, hoping Mustang would see he was alright and catch his shooing motions to leave.

He didn't. 

Ed cursed at the car made it's way to the house. A driver in uniform got out, not one of Mustangs usual unit, and opened the door to the back seat.

It wasn't Colonel Roy Mustang who got out. It was General Clinton.

Shit. Racer had military backing!

Ed hid against the wall of the house, hoping the General hadn't seen him. No way Clinton wouldn't know him to some degree. Shit, he had no idea what to do now. Was this a legitimate assignment, were Racer and Stan also military and undercover? Was Ed's, and the East City Police Department's involvement silly and a risk to an actual mission?

No, that couldn't be right. The Intelligence department supported them, they had provided gear and forced him and Mustang to live together. A military operation wouldn't need to involve children and stealing. And it would be headed by a State Alchemist, not someone as weak as Racer. This wasn't even black ops, this was a personal, behind the back of the government, mission.

And as a general's project, stopping it would be a lot harder than simply bringing in the MPs. He knew the Rank Game, Mustang pulled it all the time, and he was sure Clinton would do the same to the colonel if he showed up on his own with only the ECPD behind him. He would need more backing, be it in orders, man power, or have another general to make the arrest. 

Dang it, he really needed to get a hold of somebody in East City!

Voices sounded from the house and Ed made his way to crouch behind a window. He couldn't make out words, just tones, but before he knew it there was a mess of footsteps. Ed craned his neck around the corner and watched as the house emptied. Clinton, his driver, Racer, Stan, and all the farm hands made there way to the stables. Most likely to see Seastorm.

Quickly, he slipped into the house.

The cook was still there, in the kitchen cleaning dishes. He made his way towards her, all the clanking was loud and he figured if he made a phone call from across the room she wouldn't hear anything important. 

“I need to check in with my uncle, is that okay?”

Surprised at his voice, she dropped a fork. “What? Oh, yes, go ahead.”

She smiled at him, Ed smiled back, and then lifted up the receiver.

The appropriate number to call was Chambers, but Ed had no idea if these lines were secure and a home number would be less suspicious. He dialed the apartment. 

It was answered on the first ring.

“Jerry?” It wasn't Mustang, but rather Rick. No matter, information would spread fast.

“Yeah, it's me. I'm fine, just checking in like I said I would, Uncle Ron.”

“Where are you?” Ed could hear Rick getting paper and pen together. 

“Racer's farm. About a day's drive west. He wanted me to check out his other horses.”

“Well, you are his groom.” Huh? How'd they know about that? Didn't matter, it made things easier. 

“The best damn groom around, due to my unique talents. He wants me to work on his other horses, to impress his boss. Racer's got a lot of horses out here, but his hopes are on these two called General and Clinton.”

There was an intake of breath. “Sounds like a nice place, think I can pay you a visit?”

“Ro~n, no! This is my work. You don't know anything about horses, you'd get in the way. You can't control me, that's why I'm here, no way you could get these horses to listen to you.”

“I understand, but I may come anyway.”

Ed groaned. That bastard! Taking off looking for him without all the information!

“I'll watch the road.”

“Watch your back too.”

“Of course.”

Ed hung up and took a deep breath. He was going to kick that bastard in the nuts.


	18. In which Roy does some sleuthing

The car pulled into the parking lot of Wright Track. Roy had to give Monroe credit, his driving skills were top notch. Really, he would have to see if he could make more use of local police. If Central's were anything like East City's, he was missing out on a valuable resource. Especially since most military men would shun them.

The track wasn't empty, but there were few people about. Most of them seemed to be there to clean stalls and feed the horses, though there were a few of them who looked as if they were getting ready to ride. He had no idea what most of the words he heard meant, considered them to be subject specific jargon, and Roy wondered at how well Edward had managed to slide into this world.

Really, he should send the teen on more intelligence missions and was not breathing a word about Fullmetal's skill to Hughes. That would be a transfer request he would be hard pressed to refuse, and one Edward probably wouldn't fight very hard either. Maes would might even give the Elrics a longer leash. No, Fullmetal was staying in his office, especially now that Roy was learning just what talents Edward was keeping under wraps.

As he looked around, Monroe was talking to someone holding a horse, but he now finished his conversation and trotted over. 

“No one knows Fredrick Kirsh, but Racer and Stan are a known a bit. Apparently, they stable their horses off the track which is unusual.”

“We already knew that, but what makes it odd?”

Monroe shook his head. “Why stable a horse so far away from the track you race on? It's hard to transport them, and so the best solution is to keep it here. There are exercise rings, and the track earns money from the stabling fees.”

“How do you transport horses?”

“Normally, you walk them from place to place. But Alex over there,” Monroe pointed over his should at the man he had been talking to, “said that Racer always brings his horses over in something called a trailer.”

“Which is?”

“Do you always interrupt reports?”

Roy nearly choked on his tongue. “What?”

“If so, I'd hate to work under you. I don't have to tell you all of this. This is a joint task, but the heavy lifting, and thus the authority, belongs to my office. You're only in East City so as to allow Ed to work, not because you contribute, and you're only here today because Chambers figured you care as much for Ed as we do. So please, sir, don't talk until I'm finished.”

Flabbergasted, Roy did as he was told. What Monroe said was true. Here, his rank as a colonel didn't really have much weight. And it wouldn't unless they were going to make an arrest and even then that would be to intimidate Racer and Stan. No wonder Edward got along with these guys so well. 

Monroe continued talking without waiting for a sign to do so. “A trailer is a mechanical transport for a horse. Think a one stall train car, that is hitched on to a engine like those new tractors the big farms have. All together, it's about the size of a delivery truck.

“So, Racer brings his horses in that every time, the day of the race. It's always a different horse, but he's never had any luck until Seastorm ran yesterday. Interestingly, most of his horses either didn't finish or died on the course. His jockey Stan must have bones of steel to have survived all those falls. Talk around the barn is that their luck turned because of Jerry, their new groom. Race folk are superstitious people,” Monroe pointed out several horseshoes nailed above stalls, “and there's something about good working trinities – owner, rider, trainer. Racer said labeled Jerry as both groom and assistant trainer, though Alex said he only noticed Jerry acting as groom.”

“Also, I asked, no one paid attention to them leaving or even had a conversation with any of them to get a hint. Apparently Stan just glares at whoever talks to him and Racer avoids any type of conversation. Jerry stuck next to Racer all day, so no one talked to him either, but like I said, there was some chatter about him.” Monroe shook his head. “No matter what we do, he always attracts looks. He's got striking features, even if we do hide his eyes.”

Roy nodded, and then realizing that Monroe was finished gave his thanks. “That was very thorough. If there's nothing here to help us find...Jerry, maybe we can at the least find out more about what Racer is up to. You mentioned most of the horses died on the track, do the vets keep records? Could we find out why?”

“Maybe. Deaths and injuries are recorded, but I'm not to sure how detailed autopsies are, if they even do them. Worth looking into. Come on, the offices are this way.”

Monroe led the way to a collection of doors that the stands of the first track had been built over. Halfway there, there was a crackling sound and a voice came on the speaker system.

“If there is a Carl Monroe at the track, please come to the general manager's office. If there is a Carl Monroe at the track, please come to the general manager's office.”

Roy shared a look with Monroe and they hurried towards the line of doors. The second one was labeled as 'General Manager'. Monroe knocked and at a muffled 'come in!' through the door turned the handle.

“I'm Carl Monroe,” he said as soon as they entered. 

“Well that was quick.” The manager stood to shake hands. He was a short, balding man.

“We were heading this way already.”

“Shame you didn't get here a minute quicker. There was a Chief Justin Chambers on the phone for you.”

Roy stood up straighter. It had to be news from Edward. 

“He's the head of East City Police, is there something I should be aware of?”

“There's nothing wrong with your track,” Monroe assured him, “but we believe visiting the races and placing bets is a habit of a criminal we're tracking.”

“Ah, alright then,” the manager slid over a piece of paper he had written a few lines on.

 _Jerry's visiting a farm and found a troublesome rooster_ Roy read over Monroe's shoulder. He had no idea what the second part meant, but Edward at least had made contact and had provided some details of his location. Roy wanted to hop into the car and visually check he was alright, but knew it was a bad idea. Even if he was dressed as a civilian, his presence could complicate matters if Edward found something 'troublesome'. And there was no way Roy, as Jerry's uncle, logically knew where he was.

Monroe was frowning at the note. “I hate to ask, but can I use your phone? In private?”

The manager hesitated, but knowing the men in front of him were on police business had him nod. “I've been wanting a new coffee for awhile anyway,” he said picking up the mug on his desk.

“Thank you,” Roy said as the man walked out. “We'll keep it short.”

As soon as he was gone, Roy locked the door and Monroe started dialing. “What's the note mean?”

“Military.”

“You call us roosters?”

Monroe looked up, finger hovering over the last digit. “With the way you strut about in your flashy blue and gold uniforms? Of course. Rodgers wanted to use 'cocks' but Rick said no since Cloe helps sometimes.”

Roy didn't know if he should be insulted or bemused. 

Monroe pressed a button and the sound of ringing filled the air. After the first one, it was picked up. “Chambers.”

“Chief, it's me. What's going on?”

“Mustang with you?”

“Yes.” Roy answered.

“Alright. Ed called about an hour ago. He's on a farm about a day west of the city and we were right in thinking Racer wasn't the end of the line. There a General Clinton there. Considering how these guys have been getting funding, this is behind the Fuhrer’s back. And not only that, he mentioned horses and something to do with alchemy. Ed said the horses at the farm were supposed to get a similar treatment to the horse who won yesterday. Any ideas Mustang?”

“Very little. Racer was gathering materials that alchemically are used in living transmutations. I'll admit that we thought maybe human transmutation and didn't let you know, but if he's mentioning horses....do you know what a chimera is?”

“A mixture of animals.”

“Put simply, yes. Those same materials could be used in animal transmutations, but such transmutations are rarely, let's say pretty. Assuming that Fullmetal transmuted, or at least created an array for someone else to use considering his cover, the horse that won yesterday and that Racer wants the same thing done to other animals...” Roy shook his head. “That's where my mind's going, but I don't quite believe it. That horse did not look like a chimera. It looked healthy. Actually is healthy to have won that race. Did he actually say alchemy?”

“Hinted. Said something about his unique talents.”

“Other than mouthing off to superiors, yeah, it'd be arrays.”

Chambers chuckled. 

“So,” Monroe cut it. “Process of elimination and logic says the horse was transmuted, but still won, and this General Clinton wants this done to other horses.”

Roy shook his head, still not sure it was transmutation. No alchemist could transmute an animal and have it come out of the array unchanged, no matter how brilliant. Maybe Edward the done something to the equipment, but no, he had mentioned horses. Something was going on with the animals. What? And why? As he turned his attention back to Monroe and Chambers, Roy realized that's exactly what they were talking about. 

“Better work horses? Larger fields plowed and thus more food.”

“No. Those new tractor things are better than horses.”

“But they're pricey. And if they want to improve the maximum amount of farms, horses are the way to go.”

“And since when has the military been interested in the little people? Now, they want horses for their own use in some way.”

“Draft animals, to carry equipment during marches and skirmishes.”

“Maybe.”

“Let's think about something else for a minute,” Roy broke in. “This horse yesterday, it was special because unlike Racer's previous mounts it survived -”

“What?” Chambers asked as Roy trailed off.

“The other horses. A lot of them died. We were going to try to find out how when we got your message. What of it, Mustang?”

“What if they aren't making chimeras, what if they're using alchemy to make a better horse?”

“Is that possible?”

“In theory.” And if Edward had, Roy was going to soar after the next assessment. “But let's say that's what's happening, and these races are a test run, to see if the array is successful if the horse survives. Fullmetal developed an array that worked, the horse won, General Clinton saw this, and now wants other horses to get the same treatment.”

“Why?” Chambers insisted and Roy slipped into thought.

“Well, what do the races test?” Monroe asked. “Specifically steeplechase. It's a new sport, why chose that instead of just that flat track?”

“Steeplechase?” Roy asked.

“Like hurdles for humans.”

“Ah. Well then, it'd be more demanding wouldn't it? Physically? Not only is the horse running, it's jumping.”

“So Clinton wants super horses,” Monroe guessed.

“Again, why?” said Chambers. “Mustang, what do you know about Clinton?”

“Hmm, comes from an old family. Has a fondness of billiards. Built his career around showing the physical strength of the military, specifically ammunitions. Favorite technique is a full on charge. I can't think of anything relating to horses, though I wouldn't be surprised if his family owned one or two.”

Roy could feel Chambers frown through the phone and the room slipped into silence as they all thought. 

“Listen,” Roy spoke up, “the fact that General Clinton is involved makes this very tricky. You should tell that first lieutenant for Intelligence who was there the first night about this.”

“Do you think we have enough for an arrest?”

“No. At this point, we're ultimately guessing. We have no proof. Fullmetal has it all, at this point all we have is his testimony. I'm going to guess that he doesn't want us at the farm either.”

“No.” 

“We need proof of our theory. See if men in East City can find the array Fullmetal may have designed. Search both Racer's shack and the stable. We know they're not in town, so now's a good chance. Can we get records of every horse he's bought?”

“Already have them actually.”

Really, he need to friend the Central Police Department. “Okay, Monroe and I then will look at the vet records here. And see if you can find a farm in Racer's name. Or the General's in this area. Did we ever find out Stan's last name?”

“I have people working on it now that we have a photo, but also check the paperwork there. His full name should be on his jockey papers.”

“Perfect. Call in back in say an hour?”

“Talk to you then.”

Monroe hung up just in time to hear the door rattle. Roy quickly went to unlock it and let the manager back into his office. “Everything is all good, I hope?” He asked.

Monroe nodded. “Thank you. We'd like to look at some of your records, veterinary for horses that died on he track, and for the jockeys that rode yesterday. If that's okay.”

“Certainly, certainly. I have the jockey papers here in my office, and the vet records are next door. Dr. Peters should be in there, if not, he's checking on a horse in the stables.”

“I'll go next door,” Roy said. He would know what to look for if a death was related to a bad transmutation. 

Monroe pulled a notebook out of his pocket and ripped off a few pages to hand to Roy. Horse names. Racer's horses. Roy smiled in thanks and left. 

Dr. Peters was in his office, and it was with reluctance that he let Roy see the death records and even then only after Roy had flashed his military ID. 

“You can't take these out of the office without a warrant.”

“That's fine. I'll just stay here in the corner and look through them.”

Roy pulled out the list of horses and made his way through the vet's records. He had been hoping for them to be alphabetized by the horse name, but to his dismay the folders were organized by date. Thankfully, Chamber's men had gone above and beyond and not only listed the name of the horses Racer had bought, but also dates. If he stuck to the pattern of racing the next weekend after a purchase like he had done with Seastorm, he should be able to find the other horses fairly easily. 

Dr. Peters kept looking at him, no doubt to make sure he didn't take off with a folder, but other than that Roy found himself ignored. Racer had bought a lot of horses, forty in the past two years, but by the time Monroe knocked on the door frame to say an hour had past Roy had only found records for ten of them. Roy suspected most of the missing files were because the horses hadn't lived through an array to the point where Stan rode them in a race. 

“I'm going to call the chief, have you found anything yet?”

“No,” Roy said, looking up from the row of hanging folders. “I haven't even found records yet for half the horses. Call him, tell him what you found, and tell him we'll call in another hour.”

Monroe nodded and disappeared. Ten minutes later he was back. “Apparently the military has pulled rank on us,” the sergeant grumbled. “Rick and Rodgers went to the stable, but came back when the Intelligence Bureau told them to scram. They didn't have a chance to do anything other than knock down a wall. Still, Morgan, the lieutenant you met that first night, said he'd keep us in the loop.”

Roy stared at Monroe for a moment. A military officer willing to share information without the orders from someone higher up? Very unusual. “That's...nice of him.”

Monroe snorted and unabashedly snatched the list from Roy's hand. “You really need to read Ed's reports. Morgan is the officer who works the closest with ECPD, and thus serves as Ed's line to the military when he's working a case for us. Ed a major, but Morgan just serves as a messenger so rank doesn't usually come into play. And you know Ed's not a stickler for titles and the chain of command. Morgan may not have interacted with Ed as much as us, but they still have come into contact and it makes sense that he'd be worried about him too. We all care for the guy.”

That, Roy could plainly see. It was interesting, seeing a fourteen year old foster such loyalty and concern. If Fullmetal had joined the military under normal circumstances, Roy was positive he would have been a much beloved CO with subordinates who would do anything for him. Reminded him of himself, just a bit. And then made him realize that if Edward could just watch his mouth, respect authority a bit more, and tame his fondness for explosions, he could rise through the ranks pretty fast once he was sixteen. Roy had been the youngest colonel ever appointed, Edward had a six year head start on him by being a major at twelve. 

If Roy didn't know Edward and his goals, he'd be worried that the teen would be a competitor. 

As it was, he was learning more and more about Fullmetal with this mission and all of it spoke of a bright future Roy was looking forward to watch. But first, they had to get out of this mess.

“I'll look for the other horses,” Monroe said, gently nudging Roy aside. “You start reading those reports and see if you find something.”

Roy wanted to argue, Monroe was way below him in the hierarchy of this case now, but it was a good idea and it wouldn't do to upset useful people. Nodding, Roy took the empty seat across the desk from Dr. Peters. The veterinarian had been watching them, but as Roy sat across from him hastily went back to reading a medical journal on his desk. 

He opened the first record he had found. A mare, chestnut, called Sign and Seal. She had died going over the first jump. Dr. Peters hadn't done an autopsy, but noted external signs such as blood in the nostrils and eyes he suspected came from a heart issue. 

Roy flipped to the next one. A gray stallion, called March Morning. Again, no autopsy, but Dr. Peters had noted strange lumps under the skin and guessed something was wrong with the horse's organs. 

Third, another stallion. Bay colored, whatever that meant, called Jackson's Promise. No obvious sign of death. He had just collapsed meters before the finish line. If he had finished, he would have been seventh in a field of seven. 

Feeling eyes on him, Roy looked up to see Dr. Peters watching him. Caught, the vet turned his attention elsewhere. 

“Dr. Peters.”

“Yes?”

“Could you look at these death records for me and take a guess as to what killed these horses? Nothing official, just your hunch would be enough.”

“I guess.” 

Monroe watched as Roy handed the folders over the desk and Roy waved him over to take the other five files he had found. “These too,” Roy instructed and then pulled Monroe back to the filing cabinet. 

“I forgot to ask, did you find Stan?”

“Hmm? Yeah. His last name is Baxter. He's younger than I thought, twenty seven. The track keeps records of every race and every injury a jockey receives during races. He's only ridden Racer's horses, and has broken his collar bone twice, both arms once each, and his left leg twice too. He rode with a cast, they just strapped his leg to the saddle.” Monroe shook his head. “I've heard stories of jockeys doing crazy things, but never really believed it before now.”

“Any address?”

“Yeah, Chambers sent Rick and Rodgers there, since they couldn't work the stable. The military's checking out Racer's shack too by the way.”

Roy nodded and then noticed Dr. Peters looking at them. “Find something?” he asked, striding over to stand next to the veterinarian. 

“More like reminded myself of oddities. You should have mentioned you were looking into Racer's horses. They've always been odd and thus have not been able to get them out of my head. You're missing another three horses, God's Grace, Fuhrer’s Prince, and Born Running if I remember correctly, but from what I remember of them isn't much different from these horses.” He gestured to the thirteen files on his desk. 

“What makes them odd?”

“Most of these horses were bought from here, and competed on the flat track. Not winners mind you, but decent runners. That means I was their primary vet. When they were sold, they were healthy. Less then a month later, they're here and not. Racer is doing something to them.” He shook his head. 

“It's that something we're trying to find out,” Roy said. “What can you say about their deaths?”

“I can confidently say this one was organ failure of some sort,” he pointed at the folder for Sign and Seal. “She wasn't bought here, but rather the city market. The others...I would also say organ failure except nothing affects a horse's organs that quickly. I mean, sure, they could have developed some type of illness while away from the track, Racer's stable must not be clean, but for it to have developed to the point where running a race would kill them in less then a month?” Dr. Peters shook his head. “That's not possible.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I specialize in horses. I don't know what Racer does to them, but I've been encouraging owners for the past year to not sell their horses to him. Some listen to me, some don't, but the last five horses he raced weren't bought from here.”

“Thank you Dr. Peters, you've been very helpful. Just one question, does General Clinton buy horses here?”

“Mm, once in awhile. He visits the track to time to time, more so this past year than previous. The general has a habit of only buying winners, and I'm not surprised. He's got a farm up the way where he breeds horses. I make a visit every other month, there's about forty horses up there. He's picky about breeding what stallion to what mare, I think he's hoping for another Calvary’s Point.” 

“Calvary's Point?” Monroe asked. 

“A superb racehorse the his father had. Won every race he was in, no matter what the handicap. The Clinton's haven't had a horse do that well in thirty years. No one has actually.”

“Thank you for your time, Dr. Peters.” Roy nodded at him and led the way out of the office. Monroe followed closely. 

“Did you learn anything?”

“Organ failure is the most common form of death for chimeras. Internal systems are delicate and are precisely balanced with one another. Life is hard for alchemists to work with and copy, that's why most of use work with elements or metals.”

“Ed's mentioned something like that. He mentioned his specialty is earth. I don't have to ask what your is.”

Roy hummed. Strange, he had never thought of Fullmetal having a specialty. He did well transmuting almost anything, but he did have a fondness for creating things from the ground.

“Come one, I believe it's time to call your boss again.”

They knocked and then let themselves in the manager's office. He looked up and then down to his coffee mug. “I'll be in the restroom.” He walked out without a word and once again Roy locked the door while Monroe made the call.

“Carl?” Chambers asked as he picked up. 

“Yes,” Monroe answered.

“What did Mustang find?”

“The horses all died in ways similar to chimeras,” Roy answered for himself. “I'm pretty sure they were transmuted. I'm also pretty sure the farm Jerry's on is Clinton's.”

Chambers cursed. “Nothing we didn't expect then. Haven't heard from Morgan yet, but Stan's apartment is pretty sparse. Some weights, a floor mattress, more laxatives than anyone should have but considering he's a jockey I'm not that surprised. A few horse racing magazines. Nothing of use, sadly. Come back here.”

Roy wanted to protest, and now that this case was in military hands he knew he could. But there was no point to staying here and going to the farm wasn't a good choice either. 

There was a commotion from the other line and Roy heard Chambers get up to greet someone. When he returned, Morgan was with him.

“Morgan, I've got Colonel Roy Mustang and Sergeant Carl Monroe on the line. What can you tell us?”

“We knew about the cavern under Racer's shack thanks to Fullmetal. We followed a tunnel to another cavern, one under the stable that can be accessed from the wall your men broke down Chief Chambers. The one below the stable had two arrays on the floor. They're very complex. We brought in an alchemist who said they were for human transmutation, but considering what we know I think it's proof of animal transmutation. The alchemist however had no idea what the arrays did though.”

“We're pretty sure it's to improve horses. Racer tries to make them better with alchemy and then races them too see if it works. Many of them have died on the track, from organ failure which is a sign of a transmutation to me. We are also confident that Fullmetal designed the array, but didn't activate it, and since it worked General Clinton wants the horses on his private farm to be transmuted to win races.”

“Intelligence is thinking the same.”

“Do we have enough evidence for an arrest? If so, we should do it today since we know the general as it at the farm.”

“I agree with you colonel, but I have to check with my CO first.”

“Understood. Sergeant Monroe and I should be back in an hour.”

“Drive safe,” Chambers ordered before hanging up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a fanfiction author, I do make things up. Such as trailers and tractors in this world. For early chapters, I had access to the internet while I was writing but that's no longer the case, so I can't be sure if historically such vehicles were around in the early 1900s (assuming Amestris's development is sorta in line with America's). Nor do I know when steeplechase was invented. Actually, everything I know about the sport comes from Dick Francis's crime books. 
> 
> Additionally, I have no idea about what type of records a track might keep. I did used to show in hunt and saddle seat with a dash of gaming (fell off my horse the one time my team went to States actually, that was embarrassing). 
> 
> If thoughts about accuracy never crossed your mind while reading this fic, then I consider my job of writing an interesting story done right. If they did, well, I didn't study history at UofM for a reason.
> 
> **EDIT: Originally posted on ff.net while living in Ethiopia, but while I'm back in America I have not gone back to fact check cuz I'm lazy.**


	19. In which Ed meets a general

Phone call done, Ed jogged over to the farthest pasture and leaned on the fence to watch the horses in it. All mares, quietly grazing. The farm hands had probably turned them out before breakfast. 

"Jerry!" Ed turned around at the sound of his cover name and saw Racer standing in the open doorway of a stable. The red head waved him over. When Ed began a leisurely pace, Racer rolled his hands a few times and Ed sped up to a jog.

"Where have you been?" Racer hissed, digging his hand into Ed's shoulder. By some miracle, he managed to ignore the port under Ed's shirt.

"Checking out the farm. There's some nice horses here and the pastures are well watered."

"Come on, I want to introduce you to someone." Racer turned and led the way down the aisle of stalls. At the end was a group of men, half the farmhands and two military staff. General Clinton and his driver. Ed swallowed and tugged at his sleeve to make sure his automail wasn't obvious. In clothes 'Jerry' would wear, and with color changing contacts, he hopefully wouldn't be linked with the short, blonde Fullmetal Alchemist. But that wouldn't do if his automail reflected a bit of sunlight. Or if General Clinton was somewhat familiar with his face.

Just to be safe, while Racer made introductions Ed kept his head down and stood submissively.

"This the alchemist who transmuted the horse?"

Racer coughed into his fist. "Not exactly. Jerry can't actually perform alchemy, he just has a good understanding of it's theories. He created the array and I activated it." 

Ed was watching a farm hand inspect Seastorm whose detailed inspection, if not his dismissal of the conversation around, indicated he knew all about the plan to transmute a better horse. Still, Ed kept Clinton in his peripheral vision and it was fairly obvious the strangeness of the situation Racer described wasn't lost on the general. 

Clinton was a military general. He knew alchemists, worked with them, supervised them. A person with knowledge of the science, but unable to perform it was not just rare, it was unheard of. Especially at the level of skill required to transmute anything living. 

The look Ed sensed directed his way had him feel as if Clinton suspected, strongly suspected, 'Jerry' was lying about his skills.

Ed quickly ran through scenarios in his head. He could do his best to sell the idea that Racer's story was true. That 'Jerry' was a bright student, had gone deep into theoretical research under Racer's tutelage with the assumption he could activate an array and only recently, sadly, discovered he couldn't transmute anything at all. It was a story that had served Ed well, that Racer, Stan, and apparently the farmhands and driver believed.

Clinton was another story. He was too familiar with alchemy to not see the holes in Ed's cover. 

The general could either call Ed out, or not. Ed was hoping not. The way things were progressing, 'Jerry' was an asset and not a threat to this operation. Alienating him would change that. The simplest thing and safest thing for someone in Clinton's position would be to do nothing. To allow 'Jerry' to draw the array in the mostly empty barn, have Stan lead horses into the circle, have Racer activate the circle, and for Clinton himself to stand back and watch. 

Of course, that meant Ed had to think about the eventual transmutations. Should he go through with them? While the procedure wasn't exactly illegal, though parts of this mission were, it was very unethical. But there was no evidence that Clinton wanted these horses for anything other than runners who won races. 

Positive benefits of drawing the array: keeping his cover, the potential to learn more, getting back to the city safely, and then handing over the operation to the MPs and Intelligence branch.

Negative benefits of drawing the array: potentially killing a horse, break some law or another, and allowing Clinton to potentially use the super horses for anything other than steeplechase.

Positive benefits of not drawing the array: no risk of it not working on another horse.

Negative benefits of not drawing the array: blown cover which would most likely result in a fight and Clinton destroying evidence, a thrashing even if his cover was still intact, Ed still stranded on the farm, and probably one or two more unpleasant things. 

It wasn't really much of a choice, he'd create the array. 

"Shall we get started?" Racer asked, rubbing his hands together and breaking Ed from his thoughts. 

Clinton nodded. "Gary, Frank, go get Aster. We'll transmute that old stallion first. Racer, Stan, go and get the barn ready, I want to speak to young Jerry here."

Stan shot a glare at Ed and Racer looked nervous, but they both nodded. 

"We'll start by sweeping the floor." Stan said. "Paint still in the loft?"

"Yes."

Ed moved forward to stroke Seastorm's muzzle, not looking at General Clinton. The general however didn't like that. He grabbed Ed's shoulder, spun him around, and then clamped onto his chin to force Ed to look at him. 

Clinton scowled, not liking something, but then pushed up Ed's right sleeve. In the early morning sunlight streaming into the aisle, his arm glowed.

"You know, the contacts almost fooled me. But I know who you are, Fullmetal Alchemist Edward Elric."

Ed jerked his face free. He wanted to take a step back but he was already pressed against the door of Seastorm's stall. This close, Ed acutely felt Clinton's extra six inches of height and he was very aware of not the one, but two holsters the general had on his hips. At this distance, Clinton could have the aim of a blind cat and still kill him if he wanted. 

He looked close to it.

Crap. He had not expected General Clinton to actually know him. Ed only knew Clinton from a day people watching in the mess and Furey naming everyone higher than a major for him. He wasn't sure what it said about his reputation that Clinton knew him by sight.

Ed, for his part, didn't deny or confirm Clinton's words.

"What are you doing here?" he sneered.

Well, so much for Clinton not calling out his cover. So what remained was what he should do as Fullmetal as opposed to Jerry. Ideally, it would be to arrest Clinton but Ed guessed that if he made any move in that direction Clinton would pull out a gun. He might be able to get out of the way. Maybe not. Should he play along, act interested in Clinton's agenda?

"Depends on what you're doing."

"No. No. Racer wouldn't call you Jerry unless you were hiding your identity, and you would only do that if you were fishing for information." Clinton grabbed Ed's left arm and jerked him forward. "Intelligence sent you."

Not liking the close quarters, Ed brought his automail arm around in a punch to Clinton's side. The man grunted, letting go of Ed and he took the opportunity to put space between them and bring up his arms. Thinking fast, Ed denied Clinton's claim. 

"Intelligence didn't send me. You know me," he grinned, "I'm an independent alchemist and do what I want. When an alchemist living in a shack is buying supplies for human transmutation, of course I'm going to be curious."

"Curiosity kill the cat, Fullmetal."

"Yeah well, secrets kill too." Ed hesitated in clapping. He could trap Clinton in the ground and then call Mustang. But the entire farm seemed in on the plan. Ed could take them out one by one, but if they all came at him at once it would be hard to win.

Clinton's hand was on his gun, but it was still holstered. The general too was thinking over his next move.

"So, gonna tell me why you're boosting the health of horses? Don't have the patience to breed a winner?"

Clinton laughed. "Breeding takes years and years. You have to wait for the foal to mature. It's much quicker to use alchemy. It's also something I can use in bulk. And then breed from later."

Forty horses. There were forty horses on the farm. What could one do with forty horses? A lot of farm work. A lot of labor. But that didn't seem like Clinton's style. He was here in military blues, he was obviously proud of his position as a general and Ed figured this project of his was related to the military.

Ed was so lost in thought he didn't see Clinton draw his handgun. He did hear the shot. Instinctively, he dropped to the ground.

Seastorm let out a sharp scream as did a few other horses in the stable. Ed swore. This would not be a private battle for long. The horses would bring the others in the area running. He had to do this quickly. Never mind that he didn't know Clinton's endgame, he didn't want to get shot!

Still on the stable floor, he clapped his hand to split the earth at Clinton's feet hoping to trap an ankle. The general moved too fast, gun held steady as he rushed Ed. It was a brief look, but he could tell Clinton had a knowledge and familiarity with guns higher than the normal solider. 

Clinton shot again, and Ed rolled in an effort to avoid it. The bullet bit into his metal knee cap, severing the wire that allowed him to bend it. A lucky hit, or Clinton was just a good a shot as Hawkeye. His hands were awfully steady. 

Ed tried to push himself up, but he couldn't get the automail to cooperate. Clinton took the opportunity to pin Ed to the ground, straddling his lower back. The press of steel to the back of his neck had Ed freeze.

There was the sound of running footsteps and voice from behind them. Ed couldn't see them, but he heard Racer's voice. "What's going on?"

"Your groom isn't who he says he is." Clinton reached down and pulled up Ed's pant leg, exposing the automail. "He's the Fullmetal Alchemist, and he's here to stop us."

"I never said that!" Ed tried unsuccessfully to throw Clinton off, but the general had too much weight. "I only said that I wanted to know why you're doing what you're doing. Depending on what you answer, I might help you."

"The Fullmetal Alchemist!" Racer breathed. "No wonder his arrays were so complex and he got things right on the first try-"

Ed pressed on. "Look, I created that array for Seastorm, no questions asked, and Racer still has that array under the stable in East City. You can do all the transmutations yourself, you don't actually need me. But I'm offering to help if you tell me what your goals are. They might be in line with mine."

"And what exactly are your goals, Fullmetal?"

Er....he couldn't very well say get his body back. It wasn't common knowledge and it delved into the realm of human transmutation that the military frowned on. 

"You tell me first."

"No."

He passed out when a blunt object hit him in the back of the head.

* * *

When Ed awoke, he hid the fact by keeping his eyes closed. Close by two people were talking, Clinton and who Ed guessed was his driver.

"Do you think he'll actually do it, sir?"

"He will, even if I have to force him to. And if that's that case, then I'll make sure he's the first person the new cavalry runs over in a training drill. It'd be good to get the horses used to the smell of blood. They used to train horses to recognize their riders, and if someone who wasn't them got on to buck the stranger off and then trample them to death. Maybe we should do the same."

"It would be a sight to see, sir."

"That it would, Howe. That it would."

A cavalry? As in soldiers on horseback?

Ed knew the military used to have one, but with the invention of cars and the creation of State Alchemists such units had been tapered out of use. Horses weren't even used as military transport beasts. Not that the cavalry had been disbanded, just that old units didn't gain new members so that as soldiers died or where transferred elsewhere mounted units were merged and not replenished. Rumors had it that soon they would be replaced by armored vehicles. Or the very least better cannons. 

A cavalry answered the question of why Clinton needed better horses, but why bother creating a cavalry in the first place? What was the point, when the military saw them as obsolete?

But this wasn't about the military, was it? It was about Clinton because this project was personal. A cavalry was something the general personally wanted, was personally involved in. Which brought him back to the question of the mission, of any mission - why? What was the motive?

"I think he's coming around."

Shit. He had to learn to not make facial expressions while thinking. 

"A cavalry, General Clinton? How boring. And old fashioned. Tanks are more useful."

Clinton sneered and stomped down on Ed's shoulder to prevent him from sitting up. 

"Tanks maybe have a stronger defense-"

"And offense." Clinton ground his heel and Ed bit his lip to keep from crying out in pain.

"There is more to war then attacking. Being an alchemist, I would have thought you'd know the benefits of having information. Spies are well and good, but during battles and marches, nothing beats a cavalry unit. They can move quickly to scout enemy positions, serve as an early warning system, and be used to set up false trails. And I have yet to see a tank sneak around enemy lines and attack a unit's flank."

There was the sound of a nervous neigh and Clinton removed his foot from Ed's back. He took the opportunity to sit up, which took longer than he expected because of his hands tied behind his back. A quick look around showed him to be in the mostly empty barn he had peaked into earlier. One of the farm hands was leading in a horse while Racer was muttering to himself and drawing an array in the center of open space.

As Ed watched, Clinton took the horse's lead line from the farm hand and began stroking it's muzzle. The farm hand made his way to wall and leaned against it next to another farm hand and Stan. Standing near Ed was Clinton's driver, Howe. The young man had his back to Ed, watching Clinton calm down the horse.

"You do realize the Fuhrer is not going to bring back mounted units, right?"

Howe spun on his heel and sneered at Ed.

"He will once he sees how successful they are."

"What, you going to ship your super horses down to the southern border?" The Aerugo boarder was tense now Ed knew, but there was no conflict there.

"Maybe. But there's a few cities here out East that could use a military touch. As soon as the Fuhrer sees how useful a cavalry is with General Clinton at the head of the column, he will reinstate it. The General will show the might of the Clinton family as well as that of Amestris."

"Not to mention, Clinton horses will be the best option for such a cavalry and fetch quite a price." Clinton rejoined them, the horse ground tied in the center of the still being drawn array. 

"Glory and gold, nice."

"I thought so too. So tell me, Fullmetal, does my cavalry align with your interests?"

"Not really, no."

"Pity. I take it then there's nothing I could do to convince you to help?"

"Again, no."

"So stubborn, but what can one expect from a child."

Ed seethed.

"Howe, find some place to put Fullmetal for now and watch him. I can't risk him leaving and telling someone about this operation."

"Yes, sir." Howe lifted Ed up by an elbow and while Ed would never admit it he was glad for the other man's support. His automail leg had almost buckled underneath him as Ed stood, but now that he was upright it seemed to be doing okay. Just, unable to bend which made for a rather awkward shuffle/walk/drag out the barn. Ed could feel the eyes of Racer and Stan following him out.

Howe led him to the nearest stable and threw Ed into an empty stall. He was glad it was an unused empty stall, and not simply missing it's current occupant, even if it meant he hit the packed dirt floor without the padding of hay. Bruises were nothing. Before he closed the stall door, Howe searched his pockets for Ed's State Alchemist watch. Apparently he, like many others, believed it boosted the power of arrays. 

Not finding it, Ed had given it Al all those weeks ago, Howe shrugged and then closed the stall. He took up position out of sight, but Ed figured that just because he couldn't see Howe didn't mean Howe couldn't see him. 

He grumbled under his breath, pulling at the rope binding his wrists. Getting free was the first priority. Then fixing his knee, if he could. And then...stop Clinton or get out of there? He doubted that it would be easy to get away. It would have to be on foot or bareback, and he would be easily caught by Clinton's car. And just because he knew the direction of the city didn't mean he'd end up there. Course, if he had his watch he could have flashed it at a passing car and demanded a ride. 

Sometimes, undercover missions were a pain in the ass.

But he couldn't see himself stop doing them. They were fun and challenging. 

Right, so he'd have to take out the people on the farm. That was...four farm hands, the woman in the kitchen, Stan, Racer, Howe, and Clinton. The staff would be easy to get out of the way, so should Stan. Racer and Howe was a little worrying and Clinton a bit more so.

Still, if he caught them unguarded and one at a time....

He'd still have to be careful about Clinton. He'd won the last round and Ed would be at the disadvantage, more so, this time. A busted knee, a couple of aches, and no surprise attack along the lines of 'hey! I'm really the Fullmetal Alchemist in disguise and boy can I transmute.'

Ed would have to be stealthy and sneaky. 

He didn't exactly excel in that. He'd need a distraction. Maybe several.

He did excel in causing chaos. 

And hey, the paperwork was all on Mustang.

There was a high pitched scream.

"What was that?" Howe asked. Ed didn't answer and instead heard the solider run to the stable doors to look out.

Racer had most likely not remembered Ed's array correctly, because that scream had sounded like a horse in pain. Clinton or someone would be over soon, demanding Ed to redo it before the next horse was led to the barn and all chances of escape would be thrown out the window because there would be too many people. He needed out, now.

A hard twist of his wrists brought his fingers into contact and Ed used that moment to transform his automail hand into a tapering lance. The rope slipped off the metal and he quickly shook the now loose knots off his flesh hand before retuning his metal limb to normal.

Howe hadn't noticed the light, but the barn was probably giving off a better light show at the moment.

Quickly, Ed pulled up his left pant leg and inspected the automail. He had never gone into great detail when learning about how it worked, but he made a point of understanding how the gears and wires worked in case he needed to make a hasty repair. Ed didn't have the time to figure out where exactly Clinton's bullet had done the damage, or how bad it was, but he made an estimate based on the bullet hole and the leg's function.

Imagining the mechanical drawings in his mind, Ed figured out the most logical problem. He clapped his hands and brought them down on either side of his knee. 

It wasn't a perfect fix, the joint felt stiff and there certainly wasn't supposed to be a rattling noise, but at least it was working. He just needed it to last until the men on the farm were incapacitated and then he could call Chambers for a pick up. 

Plan made, Ed stuck his head out the stall door to check on Howe. Howe at that moment had turned his head to check on Ed. 

"You!" Howe made to draw his gun but Ed was quicker. He placed his hands on the outside of the stall door and the wood from him to the end of the stable exploded outwards in a rain of splinters. Horses screamed and those now lacking a door bolted for the two exits. 

Howe screamed too, and when the commotion died Ed could see why.

There was a large piece of wood in his left thigh and it also looked like one of the horses had stomped on it on his way out. Ed grimaced, he hadn't meant to seriously hurt Howe, just surprise him so he could knock him out with a punch. 

He could think about that later. There were voices on the air and the light from the bad transmutation of the horse was fading. The men in there would be coming here quickly.

"Sorry," Ed said and then started running toward the other end of the stable. A quick clap before leaving destroyed the rest of the stall doors and horses came thundering out of them. Thankfully, they avoided Howe's writhing form. They charged at Ed instead. He quickly ducked around the door for cover. 

There were shouts from the farm house and Ed saw two figures running toward him - the kitchen woman and a farm hand. Quickly, Ed raised the ground around each of them so that they were trapped in individual cells. With walls ten feet tall and alchemically altered to be unbreakable aside from dynamite, those two weren't going anywhere.

Three down, six to go. 

There were shouts from the stable behind him and Ed quickly ran to the next closest one. If he released all the horses, it should be enough chaos for him to sneak up on the others. Only this stable was empty. Most likely they were all in one of the pastures. Dang it!

"Jerry!"

He turned behind him to see Racer running towards him. Swearing, Ed ran into the stable. Racer was faster than he expected, Ed slower thanks to his knee, and he caught Ed around the middle inches short of the end of the aisle. 

"Get off!"

"No! Not until you explain!"

"Explain what?" Ed snarled as he threw an elbow backwards into Racer's stomach.

"Why the acting! I thought we had a connection, as two people interested in alchemy. Why did you hide the fact you're Edward Elric?"

Ed laughed. "Did you really think you were clever enough to go undetected? The East City police knew about the thefts, and when they found what you were buying and what could be done with it, they suspected you of terrorism. The city figured you were building a bomb, but I knew right away it was transmutation on living things. All that's illegal Racer. I acted so I could get the information I needed to put you behind bars."

Racer flipped Ed around so he was lying on his back. Ed got one look at a face of rage before a fist meet his face.

Ed saw stars and was unprepared for the second one.

Racer pulled back his first for a third but paused to yell. "I trusted you. I thought we could do great things together. I - oof."

Ed used the lull in blows to bring his metal knee up and hit Racer in the family jewels. The man weezed and fell to the side in pain. Ed pushed the red headed man off him.

"I do great things on my own." Ed clapped his hand an earthen bands sprang up to pin Racer to the earth. He struggled, spewing swear words, so Ed called up another band to hold his head still and cover his mouth at the same time.

"You!"

Ed snapped his head up. There was another farm hand standing above him, pitch fork aimed at Ed's chest. He rolled out of the way, the fork sunk into the ground, and Ed used the moment the man pulled on it to get it free to take out his knees and bind him the same way as Racer. 

Four left. The two farmhands and Stan shouldn't be an issue, but Clinton was.

Ed pushed himself up and his vision swarm. 

Shit. Racer had landed two solid blows. No doubt, Ed had a concussion and the blood starting to run into his eyes was not helping matters. He braced himself against a wall, gaining his equilibrium. It would be bad if Clinton surprised him while he was in this state, he needed to get his bearings and then find the general. Better to fight him before the cut on his forehead bled too much and all the aches he knew were coming started settling into his muscles. 

He walked to the open door and stuck his head out. No one around. He had to figure out how to get the drop on Clinton and then find him.

The sound of thundering hooves caught his attention. Some of the horses he had freed before were galloping his way. He could hear at least one farmhand trying to heard them. "No, no! Go left! Stupid horses."

It would be too much to expect them to split around him, and even if they did it would probably put him face to face with the farmhand behind the herd. Ed dodged into the closest building and was instantly assaulted by a horrible smell.

He was in the transmutation barn. 

In the center was something that looked as much like a horse as his attempt to bring his mom back looked human. It was a large lump of flesh, one leg stretched on the ground towards him and two with one joint too many jutting out into the air. Of the fourth leg, he could see no sign. But there did seem to be half a horse face coming out of what could have been a chest.

Racer hadn't just gotten the array wrong, he had messed up entirely. It looked like the array had tried to rearrange the whole horse instead of just shifting biochemical compounds into a perfect ratio. Ed felt sorry for the animal.

He wanted to leave, but the sound of hooves was still outside the door. The herd had turned and was stampeding the other way. Instead, Ed climbed up to the hay loft. There wasn't much there, just a few alchemical texts and what looked like breeder papers for the horses on the farm. Ed made his way towards a small door at chest height and pushed it open. The view was of the whole farm.

There were two farmhands with the horses running a muck and it looked like they were doing their best to get them to run towards a pasture with the gate open. The earthen prisons he had made before were untouched, so no worries there. And someone was running towards Racer's truck. Sandy blonde hair and no blue uniform, so Ed guessed it was Stan. 

If the jockey wanted to run away instead of fight, Ed was okay with that. There wasn't much the military could charge him with anyway. He might have been aware of Clinton's plans but the only thing he had done was ride test horses and commit petty theft. If anything, the military would probably leave him be for ECPD to pick up. Not a bad catch for Chambers, a criminal with ties to a conspiracy.

No, Clinton was the big catch and Ed fully expected him to put up a hard fight.

Ed swiped blood out of his eye, hoping to see movement below that wasn't the farmhands or horses. He needed to find Clinton before Clinton found him.

"Fullmetal! I know you're in here!"

Ed bit his fist to keep from swearing. Quietly, he laid flat on the wooden planks. There was a small gap between two of them near his right elbow so he switched positions to be able to look through it. Clinton was prowling below, taking care to avoid the transmutation. He was looking around for Ed, but hadn't seemed to think yet of the chance Ed could be above him. The general had a gun in each hand, but one fist was pressed against his nose in an effort to block the scent of the horse.

Ed was pretty sure nothing would be able to block that particular smell.

Clinton moved closer, no doubt to check amongst the equipment under the hayloft and Ed shifted from lying on his belly to crouching on his feet. He wasn't as quiet as he wanted and Clinton's head jerked up.

He clapped, turning the wood at his feet into a cage that dropped with Ed riding along on the top. Clinton dodged out of the way, getting off two shots. One hit the tractor behind Ed, he heard the ping of metal. The other grazed his flesh shoulder. If he hadn't fallen as fast as he did, it probably would have hit his gut.

Ed rolled as he hit the ground, calling up a low earthen wall to protect him as he ran to hide behind the tractor. A quick peak over one of the huge tires showed Clinton standing boldly next to the wooden cage, a gun in each hand and pointing at opposite sides of the tractor.

"Fullmetal, I'd hate to kill you and waste the talent you had. But my cavalry is more important than your life. Fix the array, use the one you used before, and I'll let you go. I might even ask for you to be promoted and join the mounted troops. That's quite an honor."

Ed snorted. Clinton shot at him but Ed ducked down in time. Absently, he noticed that his hand was in something wet. When he looked down, Ed didn't see the brown of mud or water sitting on the dirt floor. No, it had a rainbow sheen. 

Gasoline. That first shot must have pierced the fuel tank. Lovely.

It would most likely be best to move away from the tractor. He ran towards the back of it, towards the barn wall, but a bullet in his direction stopped him cold.

"Clinton, it's over." Ed said, crouching behind a fender. "The military knows you're up to something, and in fact I bet they are on their way here." A lie, he had told Mustang not to come, but he was rather regretting that now. Still, he hadn't expected Clinton to recognize him. His cover as Jerry had been working so well too. 

"And even if I hadn't been working to find out what Racer was doing, I wouldn't help you."

But how true was that? Working on the array, just yesterday and how long ago that seemed, was amazing. He had learned something new, and if Clinton had approached him before he knew about the thefts Rick had noticed Ed supposed he might have been tempted. Making horses better wasn't that far off from human transmutation, and there was always the thought that this project could have leaded to a breakthrough for him to help Al. 

Now however, knowing that Clinton was willing to kill him and go through more than one back channel to get what he wanted, Ed was glad he had nothing to do with the project.

With a soft clap, Ed extending the fore plating of his automail arm into a blade and peaked around the corner.

Clinton wasn't there.

Quickly, Ed whipped around to see the general had circled the tractor and was now parallel to him and aiming both guns at Ed's head. Ed quickly transmuted the floor between them into a series of spikes and grinned when Clinton yelped in pain and dropped a gun to the ground. 

Ed vaulted on top of the tractor and then made metal from a side panel twist and turn so it reached towards Clinton. Clinton dodged and in the process picked up his dropped gun. He immediately started shooting at Ed. Ed dived into the driver's chair of the tractor through a blown out window and covered his head.

After a few heartbeats, the shooting stopped and Ed frantically tried to figure out the controls. If he could use the tractor to force Clinton into a corner, Ed should be able to finally trap the general and then be able to make his way to the farmhouse to use the phone. 

He couldn't find the keys, so he'd have to hot wire it. Ed had glanced at the plans for the cars the military used, and he sincerely hoped the tractor was similar enough so his transmutation worked. He clapped and pressed his hands against the dash. The machine rumbled to life and Ed had a moment to grin to himself before a small stick of dynamite was thrown into the cab. Where had Clinton gotten that?!

Frantically, Ed swung himself out of the cab. Clinton was running towards the barn door and Ed had made the mistake of getting out of the tractor on the wrong side. He would have to go around it before making an exit and that fuse had been really short. 

Those few seconds thinking of which way to run cost Ed precious time. Clinton had given the door a shove close as he went through it, but it hadn't closed. Ed was halfway towards the barn door when the tractor exploded. As he was blown in the air he instinctively clapped, not sure what he would do because he had no idea where or on what he would land. 

It didn't matter anyway. He blacked out in the air.


	20. In which Roy visits a farm

Roy tapped his fingers anxiously against his elbow. Upon his and Monroe's return to East City, Chambers had informed him that yes the military was going to arrest General Clinton on the charges of theft and illegal alchemy. In fact, Intelligence had a group getting ready to leave soon and Roy was welcome to join them.

Monroe had driven him back to the apartment, where he had quickly changed into his uniform, and then taken him to East City HQ where he spent a few minutes talking to Morgan, the police liaison. Not an hour after having returned to the city, he was leaving again and Roy found himself wishing the car went faster. 

Not only that, but Roy found himself missing the company of someone from the ECPD. The men around him didn't know the details and time that had gone into this mission. And they didn't know Edward. They didn't share Roy's concern for him.

With Monroe, Roy had someone to talk to about Edward. They had spent the car ride back to the city pleasantly griping about Fullmetal's habits and tendency to get into, and out of, tricky situations. It had helped to ease Roy's worry, especially since it was so new. This was not hearing about danger after it was passed, it was knowing it could be happening now.

Roy didn't expect the feelings to be so different.

As it was, he kept rubbing the fingers of his left hand together.

Based on his message, Ed would not be happy to see Roy. He had believed he could handle it himself, and Fullmetal had proved that he could do that numerous times. Even if it rarely went smoothly. But no matter what Ed’s situation was (if he was still acting as Jerry and biding time, having taken care of things with his usual flare or not, or something else) he couldn't predict the sudden arrival of a car and two trucks filled with military personal. It was bound to kick up a fuss from both the farm and Ed.

He hadn't entered private property in the company of so many blue-clad men since the war and it was making him feel uneasy. 

"What's that?" a solider asked and Roy leaned towards the center to see between the heads of the driver and the front passenger. There was a truck coming at them. At least, Roy assumed it was a truck. The front grill looked like one, but it was followed by a tall box and was approaching fast. What he learned at the track came back to him.

"A horse trailer, stop it."

The driver stuck his hand out the window, singling to the last car in the caravan to stop the truck. Roy watched in the rear view window as the vehicle pulled up sideways across the road and two soldiers got out with guns raised. As Roy's car continued, he could see only one figure get out of the vehicle with his hands in the air. There was no way of identifying who got out.

They crested a hill and Roy could see buildings to the right. He wanted to point out to the driver that it had to be General Clinton's farm, but as Hawkeye never appreciated a backseat driver he didn't feel like this one would appreciate it either. As it was, the car turned towards it without his prompting. Roy stopped tapping his right fingers on his elbow and moved it to grip the door handle, ready to open the door as soon as they pulled to a stop.

The gates were open, mangled as if a car-or a horse trailer-had driven through it. The sign above read Fleetfoot. As the car moved down the dirt road, it became evident Ed had started causing his normal type of havoc. There were horses running pell-mell everywhere, snorting and with white eyes. There were also two strange earthen structures between what Roy assumed to be the farmhouse and the stables. As the driver came closer he pulled the car to a stop besides the structures. The jeep full of men behind them stopped as well and the soldiers got out with their guns in front.

Roy made his way quickly to the structures, noting the signs of transmutation. Fullmetal's work. He knocked on the earth, noting that it wasn't just packed dirt but stiff and hard like stone. At his knock voices came from inside.

"Gary? Gary, let us out! What's going on?"

Roy knew he wasn't in command of this unit, not really, but he was the highest ranked military officer on the farm. Aside from General Clinton, but since they were here to arrest him the general's rank was negated. It meant Roy could bark commands all he wanted and have them obeyed.

"I want someone to get these people out of here,” he rapped on Edward's transmutation so the soldiers knew what he was talking about, "Once they’re out, cuff them."

The third vehicle in their caravan, a jeep with a closed back instead of an open one, pulled up next to him. It was for prisoner transport and the passengers got right to work inspecting a way to get the men inside out of their cages.

Roy figured he could have helped, drawn an array to form a door, but his mind was on Edward. Where was he? Did he need help? Was he okay?

"Fan out. Arrest anyone you find and keep an eye out for the Fullmetal Alchemist. Make sure he's safe."

He briefly watched as Morgan divided up the men and pointed them toward different stables.

There was the sound of an explosion and Roy's head snapped to the large barn near the pastures. Smoke billowed upwards in a dark gray cloud and Roy's fire expertise had him guessing that the fire was a result of gas.

Roy wasn't a farm boy, but he was pretty sure gas wasn't keep close to something that might ignite it. Someone had caused the explosion, and his money was on Edward. He ran towards the barn, feeling Morgan and a MP fall in behind him. 

Flames were licking up the wood of one of the walls, but they were quickly spreading outwards. Roy ignored them for the body in military blue in front of the door. Not Edward, he never wore the uniform, but Roy stopped to check for a pulse.

"General Clinton," he said, both a greeting to the stirring man and identification for the men behind him. Morgan pulled out a pair of handcuffs. 

Clinton pushed himself up, coughing. He looked around, spotted Roy, and frowned. 

"I should have known you'd be coming. You always keep short leashes."

"Where's Fullmetal?"

"Brat's getting what he's earned, disrupting my plans. I hope he burns in hell."

It wasn't very professional, but Roy had to admit it felt good to punch General Clinton. As the general recovered for the blow, Morgan pulled him upright and snapped on the cuffs. Roy stood up, making use of his height advantage. "I'll only ask one more time, where is Fullmetal?" 

Clinton made a show of swinging his head back and forth to survey the area around the barn. "Doesn't look like he made it out."

Roy's head snapped to the barn. One door had been blown off its hinges; the other was singed and halfway open. Smoke billowed from the top of the doorway, oily and thick, but he could still see a bit into the barn. There were metal pieces strewn on the floor, too big to belong to automail, and the stench of something organic burning.

_Edward!_

His heart clenched and without thinking he marched forward.

"Sir! It's not safe!"

"I know how fire works, and I'm not leaving my man in there."

He was instantly assaulted by heat and swore. Roy wasn't very good with controlling natural fires. His gloves gave him control over the flames he conjured himself and not much else. If he had the time, he could draw a circle and choke it by taking away the oxygen, but that only worked directly on fuel sources and he didn't have the time. He had to find Edward.

Roy walked forward, hand over his mouth, and followed his noise. He doubted Edward would have fought Clinton with others nearby, so it was only Fullmetal who would be here. He would be the only one burning. The younger Elric was going to kill him.

But it wasn't Ed. Instead Roy found himself staring at what he guessed was a horse based on the hooves. 

He coughed. The flames were getting bigger, spreading out from the remains of a tractor. It was probably what exploded to start this fire. It was also getting harder to breath. There was creak from above him and Roy jerked his gaze up. A section of the hayloft collapsed, right on to the tractor remains. The wood blazed bright and more smoke rose from them.

Roy had to find Edward-fast.

Think! Clinton had gotten out in time, so Ed had to have known about the impending explosion. He would have been running towards the barn door...there!

There was something shining near the blown out door - automail - close to the wall and Roy had stupidly not looked to his left and right when he first entered. 

"Fullmetal!" he tried to call out but after the first syllable he was choking on the hot air. 

There was more creaking from above signaling that the roof would collapse soon. Roy ran towards Edward.

This close to the open space from the door, the smoke wasn't as thick but it still got in the way of proper breathing. Roy dropped down next to Edward and shook his shoulder but the teen didn't stir. With a grunt, Roy picked up the younger alchemist and jogged out of the barn. 

Morgan and the MP were still there. So was Clinton, who was on his knees and handcuffed with his hands behind him between the two soldiers. When Roy stepped out into the sunlight, the soldiers looked relieved while Clinton just scowled. 

He ignored them both as he found a smooth spot of earth to lay Edward down on. He had taken a few punches to the face and blood was matted in his hair. Not to mention the burns Roy had noticed from the explosion. Roy laid a hand on his cheek, taping the soft flesh.

"Fullmetal? Fullmetal, wake up!"

No response. 

"Edward, god dammit!" Roy leaned down to check for breath. One faint breeze against his check. But that was it. No second one.

"Shit." Roy pried open Edward's jaw, ignoring the startled sounds from the other soldiers, and leaned down to breath into Edward's lungs.

Edward had to be okay. He wasn't even sixteen yet! 

The teen shifted beneath him and Roy pulled back to watch him cough a few times and then gulp down lungful after lungful of air. 

"Fulmetal. Edward, slow down. You'll pass out like that."

Edward did, staring at Roy. When his breathing was back under control he gave Roy a half smirk.

"I told you not to come, you bastard." His voice was raspy and dry, but Roy didn't think his was much better. 

"Yeah, well it was a good thing I did."

"Hmm." Edward closed his eyes and Roy instantly shook his shoulder. 

"Don't fall asleep, I think you have a concussion."

"Yeah, I know." Edward made to stand and Roy helped him stand. Once he got on his feet though, Edward shrugged him off and limped over to Clinton. Roy ignored the snappy line that didn't come out as strongly as the teen probably wanted it to, and instead checked the alchemist over. Automail limp, burnt back and hand, concussion, split skin on his forehead. But nothing major. Edward would be okay. He was alive and would continue to be.

It wasn't until the huge wave of relief hit him that Roy realized he had been worried that he had lost Edward and how devastating that thought was. Sure, he was that annoying subordinate who never followed regulations and went off the handle. But he was also still young, something Roy realized he forgot more often than not. Sending Havoc into a situation like this would not have affected him as much as sending Fullmetal had.

Granted, Jean wouldn't have helped cause an explosion or probably enabled so many arrests in a single afternoon, but Edward Elric was one of a kind.

Roy placed a hand on Edward's shoulder and the teen stopped his conversation with Morgan to look at him. "Come on, we should get you looked at by a doctor."

"You too," he said and Roy found himself touched by the concern. He wouldn't have thought Edward would take an interest in his health before.

"Okay."

* * *

"How is he?" 

Roy looked up to see Chief Justin Chambers walk into Edward's hospital room. Roy had been cleared to go back to the apartment, but Edward had to stay overnight for observation. He inhaled a lot of smoke and some of the burns had been pretty bad. As it was, the alchemist was sleeping on his stomach.

"He'll live."

"He'll probably outlive us both."

Roy smiled at the comment and then went back to watching Edward's back moved as he breathed. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"I'm no stranger to fighting, I participated in the war which I think you know, but I rarely send my men into danger like this. It's usually intelligence missions and other things that involve stealth. Occasional danger, nothing constant like this. Having to always be aware of those around you, working alongside criminals."

"You can't tell me this is the first time you're aware of Ed being injured on a mission."

"No...but, but I guess it's just different up close. I hear about missions only through his reports, and since he's in front of me I know that he made it through okay. I've never seen evidence of situations like this. If I hadn't gone into that barn to get him..."

"Then Morgan would have, I'm sure. Everyone here, we care about Ed."

"And knowing that, how can you continue to request his help with undercover missions? How can you stand going through all, all this every time?"

"One, because Ed is good at this. And while he might get hurt more than anyone of us care for him to, we do know he's cautious. That trick with the _Sandbag_ , making people think he's drunk when he's not? Wearing the contacts? Even calling us. Where he can, he is safe. But him being him, he's also likely to cause a little mayhem." Chambers chuckled. "He's young, teenagers do that. But I also know he doesn't see himself as a child."

"No, he doesn't." Roy knew the boys had been through much, and while Chambers didn't seem to know the details he knew enough to know life had not been easy for the Elrics.

"I can't hold him back, he likes working with us and always stops by. He doesn't react well to 'no' and I feel better, personally, if he's here where we can keep an eye on him rather some far flung town like Youswell."

Roy didn't know if that was a dig at the assignments he sent Fullmetal out on or not, but he nodded in understanding.

"Staying in the apartment with him was good to get to know him a little better. And you guys. I think I'll give him more assignments out here. He's in good hands." And Roy now knew he wanted Edward to be in the good hands. Because he was a kid and yet not at the same time. At the very least, Roy now knew he cared more for him.

* * *

When Ed first woke up, he grumbled and turned his head so he wasn't facing the window. The light streaming from it was not something he liked. The sound of chuckling had him opening his eyes. Rick was sitting in a chair next to his bed.

"Glad to see you're awake."

"Can I leave yet?"

"It's still early, only 6. The doctor said he'd come check on you around 8."

Ed frowned. "6 am?! What are you doing here then?"

"We volunteered to watch you for a few hours." Cloe came in with two cups of coffee. She handed them to Rick and then walked over to the bed. Brushing a stray piece of hair off of Ed's forehead, she asked, "How do you feel?"

"Just a little sore. I'm fine. You didn't have to come."

"Mmm, I think Mustang liked the company."

"The Colonel's here?"

"See for yourself." 

Ed turned his head back towards the window. Mustang was indeed sitting on a chair on the other side of his bed. Jacket off, shirtsleeves rolled up, feet stretched in front of him, and head back with his mouth open, his commanding officer was sound asleep.

With a snort, Ed flipped his head over again. Cloe had taken the seat next to Rick, as well as one of the coffee mugs.

"What's the bastard doing here?"

Cloe frowned at him. Rick shook his head.

"He cares for you Ed. Mustang ran into a burning barn to find you and got you out. Do you remember that?"

"Yeah." He remembered waking up outside the barn with Mustang over him, the worry plain on his face. But that didn't explain why he was here, at the hospital. Ed was fine; he'd be out of here in two hours. The mission was over. Mustang could have been on the train to Central already. Or giving a report to a general here.

But no, he was sleeping in a very uncomfortable chair to be near Ed. It was something Al would have done. Ed had noticed his animosity towards Mustang fading these past few weeks. But to realize it had obviously been two ways, that Mustang - strangely - cared for more than just mission results...Ed suddenly felt warm.

"I'm not saying this again, but thanks you two. For staying with me. And make sure you thank the others from the office too."

Cloe smiled at him. "You're part of the EPCD family, we wouldn't leave you alone. But you're welcome."

"You want me to tell Mustang that too?" Rick asked with a smirk.

"HELL No!" Ed might be willing to tolerate the colonel now, but he was miles away from being mushy.

Rick just laughed at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All done. Thanks a bunch for reading guys!


End file.
